The Witch House
by TepidAnger141
Summary: In an effort to improve the UK's political relations, the Queen orders Hellsing to the dank, swampy forests of France's corner. As eager and bloodthirsty as ever, Alucard, along with an exasperated Seras and Pip, head into the lair of a strange and wicked creature. Meanwhile, Integra struggles with harsh lessons learned in the modern era of vampire-hunting.
1. Chapter 1

A/n: I was browsing through Hellsing fics today and the sad lack of completed multi-chaptered stories made my heart hurt. Conveniently, I had this idea on back-burner for quite a while now.

Hopefully I've kept everyone in character, but this is my first long fic so please be gentle!

Don't forget to drop a review if you'd like!

Disclaimer: All characters of Hellsing are created and owned by Kouta Hirano.

* * *

**The Witch House**

* * *

_In the muggy, sweat-soaked noon of 1830, a woman burns at the stake. She is not fair nor ugly, not loved nor hated. No one knows where she came from or who she is and no one bothers to know. She is simply going to burn._

_"You'll pay for this!" she shrieks, writhing against the post, thin bloodied wrists chafing against thick rope, "You think I end here? HERE?"_

_The faceless peasants hurry to throw torches onto the wood pile. Some cross themselves and pray. Some will go to their deaths still hearing her screams._

_"Filthy rats," she rasps, her throat half-charred, "I'll drown myself in your blood."_

_And then in that little insignificant village, in that country that has collapsed on its side, the woman without a name burns. She thinks in those last moments of the dark power waiting for her, the speed and teeth, the beauty that she will have forever. She thinks and grows giddy and cackles._

_And then she burns._

* * *

"She killed another ten this week," a short, squat figure sat hunched over a dark table, "Half the village has already moved out. At this rate, the whole place is going to become a ghost town."

He fidgeted, fiddling around with his glasses as he sent nervous glances toward the shadowed figure gazing out a window across the room.

"How many men have you sent to her?" the silhouette asked softly, turning to reveal a tall, slender frame, hands folded neatly behind his back.

The short man's eyes widened slightly and he dabbed at his pale sweaty forehead with a limp handkerchief.

"Three squads," he answered, sighing shakily, "They were just...none of them returned."

"Does this surprise you?" the figure asked icily, "Sending mere men. They would not have stood a chance."

The short man released a distressed moan, leaning his elbows on the table to grab at his head.

"Mon Dieu, what on Earth is she?" he whispered, hands clenching in his thinning brown hair, "Where did she come from?"

"Where she came from is irrelevant," the shadow chastised, strolling across the room, "She is but a monster."

"How are we suppose to deal with something like her?! Mon Dieu, it's so hopeless, once all the villagers are gone, she's going to leave that place and kill us all. We're all going to die. Dieu, why do I have to be in charge of something like this? I-"

"Silence," the shadow snapped, and the short man's voice died in his throat, but he continued whimpering, mopping at his perspiring forehead. A corner of the shadow's thin lips curled in a disgusted sneer as he regarded the other.

"I would never expect a disgrace such as you to be capable of handling her," he said simply, "To fight a monster, one needs another monster."

"...W-What?"

"Get Madame Rosbif on the phone," the shadow suddenly said, walking briskly back to the window, "If those isle peasants wish to become such good friends with us then a few favors should be done first."

The short man's eyes widened into saucers.

"M-Monsieur, you can't be saying-"

"I find the whole arrangement rather irksome, truly," the silhouette turned back toward the window, "However, since we do not have a creature of caliber at our disposal, we are forced to ask the English for their dog."

"B-But Monsieur!" the man stammered, half-rising from his chair, "The place where she is, and what she can do there, i-it's-"

"It doesn't matter."

"But what if-"

"_I said it doesn't matter!"_

There was an audible, almost painful sounding 'click' as the man's mouth snapped shut. A long, stifling silence reigned. The shadowy figure didn't even turn around.

"As long as she dies," he finally said, quietly, "As long as she dies, it doesn't matter."

* * *

Integra Hellsing rubbed at her temples, feeling the aching pulse of her fourth migraine of the day.

"Are you even listening to me, Alucard?" she snapped, glaring at the dark, lanky form draped languidly over her couch.

Alucard, Hellsing's ultimate secret weapon, current source of her headaches, and usual bane of her existence, blinked distastefully at her.

"I still don't understand why I need to be up during the day for this."

Integra gritted her teeth, nearly mangling the fountain pen in her hand. She'd always thought of herself as a reasonably patient person-the nature of the events and people that surrounded her daily demanded it-but Alucard was gnawing quite thoroughly on her last nerve.

"I already told you," she began again through clenched teeth, "The jet will be coming to pick you up at noon."

"Why does it have to come at noon?"

"Because that's when they said they'd arrive."

"Why can't it be a later time?"

"Because that's when the fucking French said they'd get here."

"Well why does it have to be a French jet anyway? Why can't one of the _British _jets take me at a _reasonable _time that doesn't involve the blazing sun at the peak of the sky?"

Integra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose hard. While Alucard's complaints were beginning to resemble a sulky child not wanting to ride in a different car to school, she honestly thought he had a point.

As if there weren't enough problems with vampires in the UK, now she was expected to respond to incidents in othercountries as well? Sometimes, Integra thought her Queen was a bit narrow-minded in her eagerness to improve national relations.

"It's a gesture of courtesy, Alucard," she explained, "They are trying to convey new alliances through their offer to take you. We would be conveying likewise by accepting."

The look her vampire gave her was thoroughly unimpressed and Integra had to repress another sigh. Given that his own management of national relations as a prince had involved impaling people on 18 meter spikes, she wasn't really surprised he didn't understand.

"Look, I know it's going to be uncomfortable, but the trip will only take two hours at the maximum. ...You can just sleep during that time."

She winced internally at the suggestion. Alucard was a notoriously heavy sleeper and once he was out, he was out. The image of oblivious French officials trying to rouse him was unpleasant.

"They're offering to serve you virgin blood as well," she quickly amended, "It should be relatively fresh."

Alucard sat up silently, the first spark of interest in his slanted red eyes. Well, at least she could rely on his never-ending hunger to respond. Thinking that the inevitable next question would be what his menu options were, Integra was just beginning to draw out the list of available blood types she'd memorized earlier, when he surprised her.

"It's interesting that for one who is doing a favor, Master, you are acquiescing to a great many demands."

Integra blinked at him. Her vampire was giving her a bemused, slightly puzzled look, like he was wondering where his usually strict and uncompromising mistress was. She sighed again in exasperation.

"It's an order from Her Majesty. She has wanted to improve relations with France for quite some time now."

"Hm," Alucard scowled slightly, "The Queen is surprisingly more weak-willed than I thought."

Integra's icy eyes flashed.

"Careful, Alucard," she warned, "That is your Queen you're talking about."

Alucard shrugged, and turned to stare sullenly at the dead fireplace. With his legs crossed loosely across the couch and his sleep-mussed hair, he looked much like a cranky teenager.

_Which he is over the majority of the time. _Integra closed her eyes for a moment and massaged her left temple.

Truth be told, she'd been as confused and annoyed as Alucard when she first received that call. Not only did the President of France apparently know about the existence of the supernatural, Hellsing and Alucard, he had wanted to call on them for some vampire problem of theirs, as if they were mercenaries for hire.

She'd been a thought away from refusing, when the Queen had told her she'd already accepted, and sounded both firm enough and apologetic enough that Integra had no choice but to obey.

"She's trying to improve our national relations, " she tried to explain, "Our ties with France have always been tenuous at best."

Alucard scoffed.

"She apparently doesn't understand the meaning of good relations then."

"You are the last person I want to hear that from," Integra snapped, "And how this country decides to handle foreign affairs is none of your concern."

"It is when you want me to get up during the day."

_Jesus Chri-_

"For goodness sake, Alucard, it's just for two bloody hours!" she said, wanting to throw her hands up in frustration, "The sunlight doesn't even affect you!"

He had no problem with flying across the channel and no problem with traipsing through a swampy forest, but he was going to have issues with sitting on a plane for two hours at noon?

Alucard didn't even deem to look at her this time, making Integra's blood boil over.

"You seem to be under the delusion again that it ultimately matters what you want, Alucard," she said frostily, "This business with the French is not a friendly suggestion. I'm ordering you to go to France and complete this mission. You'd do well to not complain further and endure the discomforts."

Silence. Integra stared holes into the back of Alucard's dark-haired head. She didn't enjoy constantly lording herself over him, but her pet always needed constant reminder of his position within the organization. Getting him upset and sulky with her was an incredible pain in the arse too.

So imagine her surprise when Alucard suddenly turned back to her, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Well, if it is an order from the Master," he purred, "Then I shall do as you command."

There was not a single trace of his previous irritation remaining, as if it were never there in the first place.

Integra slightly gaped at him, feeling a bit like she had just been struggling and struggling against an inflatable wall. She had spent nearly two hours coaxing and persuading him, explaining and re-explaining the circumstances. Two hours in which she could have made a sizeable dent in her paperwork. Two hours in which her favorite fountain pain was now nearly beyond repair. And he was just sitting there, with that incredibly amused grin split across his face, probably immensely entertained by how long it took for her to snap and simply order him into it.

Integra saw red.

"ALUCARD!"

He was gone before the silver ashtray could bounce harmlessly across the couch cushions, his deep moronic laughter echoing the office.

_Perhaps you'll see me across the channel, Master, I will guarantee you quite a show._

* * *

When Walter came in a few hours later with the afternoon tea, he was forced to dodge an ashtray that crashed violently against the door frame.

"Get out, you demon! I'm busy!" she barked, eyes flashing furiously beneath her glasses, before she realized who it was.

"Oh my God, Walter, I'm so sorry!" she cried in surprise, anger melting off instantly as she began rising from her chair.

Walter waved a hand gently at her as he straightened from his crouch.

"Not a problem, Ma'am," he replied calmly, steadying the tray of tea and sandwiches in his hand. Not a single drop had been spilled.

He walked over to her desk, smiling wryly.

"Am I to assume you have already briefed Alucard on his mission?"

Integra snorted bitterly, looking slightly frazzled.

"I suppose "brief" would be the operating word, but a more appropriate description would be that he wasted two hours of my time being a difficult bastard for absolutely no reason."

Walter made a thoughtful sound as he poured Integra cup of Earl Grey; he was well aware of Alucard's childish inclinations.

"Well, I suppose his...eccentric personality will deter the French from asking for anymore foolish favors if nothing else," he offered, unable to conceal the slight cheer in his tone.

Integra eyed him over the rim of her teacup.

"Walter, you do know the whole point of this is to _improve _our standing with them right?"

Of course he knew. He knew, but that didn't mean he understood, and while others may claim his disdain for the French was borne from an elderly mind stuck in a traditional past, Walter simply failed to see gaining anything beneficial from having relations with them, and certainly not in doing favors for arrogant, pompous, skirt-twirling frog tossers that lost practically every war they'd ever waged.

"...I would love nothing more than for our nation to strengthen alliances, Sir Integra. It's just that I'm a bit unsure of the impression Alucard is going to make."

"That's an easy enough problem to solve, Walter," Integra replied dismissively, sipping at her tea.

Walter tried not to look disappointed. "Pardon, Ma'am?"

"I'm sending Seras and Captain Bernadette with him," his mistress said, "I suppose you could tell him they're there for back-up but really, he'll need to be kept an eye on if we're not to muck this up too badly."

The old butler's shoulders sagged slightly. "I see."

Integra's lips twitched in an amused and knowing smile.

"It is what Her Majesty wants, Walter," she comforted him, "And besides, the case is ridiculously low level. It would be a bit of an embarrassment if we declined."

Walter's slender eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Really? If I may ask, ma'am, what is the case about?"

Integra let out an unladylike snort, gesturing to the thin stack of papers she'd been attending to.

"A female vampire has taken up residence in a forest edging along a nearby village. Over the last month, she's killed over fifty people. The villagers are in a hysterical panic and the police are useless as usual. In general however, she has no known powers aside from the typical vampiric strength and speed, and no special abilities. Alucard should make short work of her."

Walter nodded, shuffling lightly through the papers. The vampire certainly sounded unimpressive enough; some of the reports even detailed her killing her victims with a physical weapon.

"It says here that she's residing within an ancient castle," he commented thoughtfully.

Integra nodded, but didn't look any more troubled.

"From what we've gathered from the French, it's merely an old abandoned relic from the 1800s. Nothing to be concerned over."


	2. Chapter 2

Again, please R&R if you get the chance!

* * *

**The Witch House (2)**

* * *

La Maison de la sorcière was a spiraling tower of black brick and stone, adorned by a vast white-coned tip. An old gnarled porch jutted from the side of its base, connecting to a small, slightly crumpled house. Vines and moss heavily blanketed its walls and poured over the uneven roof in a dusty green curtain.

It was quaint, in an eerily isolated sort of way. Or at least that's what Seras would've thought normally.

As of right now though, she was trying to glare it to death.

"Holy shit, I think I saw a snake!" a French voice nearly screeched from behind her, breaking her concentration. Seras sighed, not bothering to turn around, even as she heard the loud clumsy shuffling of feet and equipment. After the fourth false alarm and unnecessary bout of panicking led by Pip, she was almost certain there were no snakes at all in this area of the forest.

"You're being too loud, Captain," she said instead, pulling the Harkonnen's strap higher over her shoulder. It kept scraping across the copses' rough upper branches no matter how it was held and she was sure there'd be ugly scratches all over the neck by the time they went back.

Seras's eye twitched slightly at the thought. This was already starting out so well.

"Hurry up," a voice from far ahead suddenly boomed back at them, "You're slow."

Seras twitched harder.

"Stop _yelling_, Master," she whispered back, knowing he'd hear her anyway, "This is suppose to be a _stealth _mission."

As if just to prove her wrong, Pip accidentally dropped a large gray case that crashed against a tree stump before slamming down on the stone-riddled ground.

"Fuck!" he was on his knees almost instantly, carefully righting the case and whatever was inside with the care of handling a newborn.

Seras clenched her teeth and was just about to shush the man again when her master's completely _deafening _chuckle rang out across the trees.

"Come now, police girl, what's the point of being quiet, when it's going to become loud again anyway?" his voice slithered up around them, a slightly crazed eagerness lingering darkly on the edge of his tone.

Seras groaned. Between Pip's screaming and dropping of equipment every five seconds and her master's annoyingly boisterous mood, she was thoroughly expecting the enemy to come flying at them through the bushes at any second now.

_I'm telling you to relax, police girl, _Alucard's amused voice rumbled in her head, making her jump and almost trip, _The sun has just finished setting only thirty minutes ago. It will take another hour for them to fully awaken._

"Master, stop reading my mind!" she whined, almost perfunctorily, before his words actually sunk in.

_WHAT?! Why didn't you tell me that from the beginning?!_

She had been nothing but a mess of paranoia, anxiety and stress since they'd gone on this stupid traipse too. From the growing curl of a grin forming in her head, it hadn't been an innocent mistake.

_Hurry, police girl, you're dawdling._

He pulled out of her head so quickly she couldn't even edge in another word. Seras sputtered incoherently for a moment, before deflating with a frustrated sigh. Despite growing more and more accustomed to her master's strange personality, it still amazed her at times how he could find doing such pointlessly obnoxious things so amusing.

"Come on, Captain," she started, turning to Pip, "we should-" and her eyes promptly popped out of her skull.

"Is that a _flamethrower?!"_

Pip was still crouched on the floor, but the case was now open and what looked to be a large jetpack with a hose connected to it was in his lap. He nodded absentmindedly at her, craning his neck to check all the little seals and latches leading up to the nozzle.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"_Why do you have that?_"

"I don't like the look of this place," he replied simply, packing up the flamethrower once he was sure it wouldn't burn down half the woods, "After Mr. Alucard has his fun, I'm going to torch it."

Seras's nose wrinkled slightly at the reminder of her master's ideas for entertainment.

"But no one even lives around here," she said, "Once we dispatch the targets it'll just be a tower."

Pip gave her a strange look as he re-shouldered his pack.

"Do you know what La Maison de la sorcière means, mignonnette?" he asked, answering his own question when Seras just blinked at him, "It means the Witch House. I don't know about you, but I think it's better to destroy something with a name like that. All kinds of weird shit happened here before and now its housing bloodsuckers. This place is bad news."

Seras's eyebrows rose at the serious look on his face; compared to his usually cocky grin, it looked very weird.

"I didn't know you were the superstitious type, Captain," she teased, trying to cover up how uncomfortable she found it.

Pip just shrugged and walked past her, the flamethrower case tucked beneath his arm.

"I'm here with you and that master of yours, aren't I?"

Right. Point taken. Seras pulled lightly on the Harkonnen strap, and debated for a moment on whether to stop him or not. In the end, she decided not to bother. If Pip wanted to act like a paranoid crazy man and get yelled at for hours, then that was his business.

They spent the next few minutes trudging through the spongy, rotting undergrowth that tapered the forest's edge. There was much yelping and cursing as they stumbled along, dragged down by their cumbersome burdens.

By the time they managed to shove around the last of the bushes and branches, Pip was half-covered in mud and Seras had dead wet leaves smeared all across and behind her dark pink coat.

The castle stared indifferently down at them, glowing ethereally in the moonlight. Seras glared at it again. Suddenly, Pip's flamethrower idea seemed a lot more inviting.

Of course then her master, impeccable timing as always, chose this moment to slither over in a ribbon of shadow and eyes.

"It's about time," he said simply, arching an elegant brow at their bedraggled states, "You're both filthy."

His usual red overcoat black slacks ensemble was immaculate. Seras twitched.

_Well excuse us for not being able to ooze through trees with our magical shadow powers._

_You could learn if you actually drank your blood for once._

"Master!" Alucard just grinned, while she scowled up at him with her fists bunched. Pip looked between the two vampires confusedly for a moment, before deciding he didn't really need to know.

"Aw, give us a break, Mr. Alucard," he said lightly, dropping his pack on a nearby rock, "It's pitch black out here."

Alucard snorted, "I don't give breaks."

"Really, please tell us more," Seras grumbled under her breath. Surprisingly, Alucard ignored her.

"The nest contains ten vampires," he said instead, turning to the castle, "Three on the bottom floor and six on the top. They're not much."

Which meant he wasn't going to bother. Which meant it was just going to be her and Pip. Fantastic.

"Wait, that's only nine," Pip suddenly said, cutting off her mental griping, "Where's the last one?"

Seras winced at the homicidal glee her master's grin suddenly peeled back into-both rows of his hair-raising shark teeth glinting white in the dark. Pip shuffled a few steps away, looking more than a bit freaked out.

"Up in the tower," Alucard nearly purred, either oblivious to their discomfort or more likely uncaring, "That one seems more promising."

She sighed as Pip backed away a tad more. Though she had grown more or less use to her Master's insatiable bloodlust in the past year, it didn't mean she was all that eager to witness it in action. And after a nauseating plane ride and one unpleasant hike deep into the woods, she was beginning to wonder why she had to go on this tryst at all.

Undoubtedly, her master could've dealt with this completely alone. Since when did they care what France thought of them anyway?

"Alright then, mignonnette, let's get this over with," Pip said, regaining a more professional air. He kneeled down to unlatch the case, pulling out the flamethrower.

Alucard's eyebrow raised slightly in interest.

"Oh? Looks like you brought an interesting toy with you, Frenchman."

"I figured it better to get rid of this place completely," he replied, fiddling with a few buttons on the large green tank, "It's been giving me chills since I was a boy."

"Hm, really?" Alucard turned, staring up at the white tower again, unhinged smile still in place, "Well, I suppose even _you_can have a good idea every now and again. Oh, and it seems like we were a bit too loud after all."

He liquefied into the darkness before either of them could even finish processing what he said. Though in another second it didn't matter, since they were barraged by a hail of bullets from the balcony.

"Captain, _move_!"

Seras dove at Pip, shoving him quickly behind a tree for some cover before joining him behind an adjacent tree. Pip spewed profanity, scrambling to regain his footing and senses, as he dug into his coat for his gun.

"Some fucking early-risers, aren't they?" he joked lightly, before turning over to shoot at their assailants.

"I _told _you both not to be so loud," she retorted, though with less anger than resigned frustration.

She was already on her elbows and belly, cringing at the cool moistness of the swampy forest floor spreading across the front of her coat and legs. With an effortless swing, she settled the Harkonnen against her shoulder, eying the three grayish figures standing on the balcony.

They were all dark-haired men, and the glow of their eyes beneath the shadowed roof were like macabre stars. None of them had the standard red irises of a vampire, possessing instead a dead black pupil in their left eye and a pale green one in their right that shifted and moved independently as the figures dodged Pip's bullets.

Seras stared, feeling a strange chill crawl down her spine.

"Seras!," Pip suddenly barked, snapping her back to attention, "I could use some fire power, mignonnette!"

He was firing relentlessly now, only taking cover to reload another silver magazine. It took a second for Seras to realize that the figures had multiplied. Swaying masses of ghouls were steadily climbing out from the bushes.

"O-Oh! Yes, sir!"

She shoved down the ominous feeling and took aim.

The sliver of a moon was fully up by the time they'd taken care of all the ghouls. Pip panted slightly, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Halfway through the fight, the ghouls had begun springing from unexpected places, some only a hair's breadth away from where they were, forcing them to zigzag for cover across the field.

_Mon Dieu, there's too many fucking plants in France, _he thought, not feeling particularly patriotic, as he tried maneuvering into a better position behind the overgrown thorn bush they were hiding against.

Seras pushed at him absentmindedly when his knee brushed against her hip, eyes still glued to the balcony only a few meters away from them.

There was already one huge bloody splat marring the grass where the Harkonnen had shot the head off the first vampire. The girl had been strangely intent on killing them as soon as possible.

Not that he was complaining. Those lazy-eyes were fucking creepy and while normally being this close, he would've copped a feel by now, he wasn't going to break her concentration.

Pip mopped a hand over his tired face. God, what he would do for a cigarette right now. He never thought he'd even be coming back to this country again, much less to kill bloodsuckers. Now all these annoying memories were coming back to him...

He gazed fixedly at Seras's butt to clear his thoughts. It was so cute and firm and she was so leggy too-

The bush exploded.

Pip cursed hideously and rolled to his side, plastering the clean half of himself in the wet grass and mud. From the corner of his eye, he saw Seras scrambling to her feet with the Harkonnen, breaking apart the rest of the thorny branches in her haste.

She was glaring hostilely at the second vampire, who was standing not even a meter away from her. It was hunched down slightly, with one hand still outstretched from the gigantic rock it had hurled at the bush.

Its aimless green eye swiveled in different directions, while its black eye stared abysmally at them.

Pip felt his blood run colder and colder the more he stared into those eyes. There wasn't a semblance of humanity left in them.

A tense pause ensued, in which the vampire did nothing but stare at them, his green eye shifting sporadically. Then in the next instant, it let out a vicious snarl and leaped at Seras in a blur of speed Pip could barely keep up with.

"Seras!" he yelled, superfluously, since the girl was already moving. Teeth clenched, she blocked the vampire's strike with the neck of her rifle and jumped backwards, attempting to gain enough distance for a shot. But the vampire followed right after her, slashing and swiping in close quarters.

All he could see was a bob of blonde hair as they moved and the silvery arcs of the Harkonnen, as Seras swung it like a wooden stick. Pulling his gun out, he noted for a split second that he was on his last magazine, before firing a few mis-shots at the pair, attempting to distract it.

But the vampire ignored him; it was well aware of who was the bigger problem amongst the two of them and dogged Seras's heels.

"Shit," Pip muttered, mind racing. He wondered if jumping into the fray right now would be a help or hindrance to Seras. At the very least, he thought he could pull the vampire away enough for her to get away. Though half of his throat would probably be gone by the time she could shoot.

_That's why I said this place was bad news. _

Pip got up from his kneel and shoved his gun beneath his belt. But before he could commit any incredibly brave and stupid act, he caught a glint of metal from the corner of his eye and whirled around. It was the flamethrower, still laying innocuously in the grass where he had left it.

Never had a weapon looked so beautiful in his life. Pip made a mad sprint for it, nearly tripping as he snatched the thing up, just as the vampire had managed to trip Seras onto her back.

"Incoming, mignonnette!" he yelled by way of warning, and yanked the nozzle up without even shouldering on the straps.

He had just enough time to catch with grim satisfaction, the look of surprise on the vampire's face as it spun around. _Thought you could ignore me, eh?_

The fire came out in a stream of brilliant orange and red, nearly blinding against the nightscape. The vampire screamed like a banshee as it burned, raising the hairs on Pip's arms. Seras kicked violently out of its grip and scrambled backwards.

They both watched as the creature crumbled into a pile of gooey ashes.

"Ugh," Seras scowled at its remains, brushing herself off fastidiously, before giving Pip a grateful smile, "Thanks for that, Captain."

Pip grinned back. "Not a problem, girlie." And since he couldn't help it, "If I'm not getting any, then a lazy-eyed bloodsucker sure as hell isn't either."

The responding blush was hilariously cute.

"Oh, you're such a pervert, Captain!" she squealed indignantly, hefting the Harkonnen back over her shoulder. The white shade of the rifle made the vivid pink of her cheeks stand out even more.

Pip chuckled quietly; she was such an adorable girl.

"Well, that's almost the last of them," he said, changing the subject, "Did the third one get away?"

Seras nodded quickly, eager to move on from her awkwardness.

"Y-yes, I saw it run back into the house." She pointed hesitantly back at the tower, looking at it with slight anxiety. It was clear the place was starting to look a bit foreboding to her as well.

He sighed, rotating his shoulders, before strapping on the flamethrower.

"We'll just have to go after him then, won't we, mignonnette?" The sooner they finished here, the sooner he could burn this place to the ground.

With a determined breath, Pip began walking toward the house, Seras following at his side.


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I just realized that I used various French words (mostly swears XD) throughout the first three chapters without any idea if I incorporated them in correctly. If anyone finds any issues, please let me know!

* * *

**The Witch House (3)**

* * *

The stench of rotting flesh and wood slammed into them like a wall as soon as they entered. Pip gagged, his hand flying to his nose.

"Merde! What the fuck is that?" he choked out, trying not to breathe too much.

Seras shook her head, looking slightly disgusted, but not half as bothered by the scent as he was, though she had the stronger sense of smell.

"I don't know," she replied, staring strangely at the ceiling and walls of the house.

It was a cramp little room, with dusty, mothball-ridden sheets draped over what little furniture seen. There was an open threshold on both sides of the room, half-crushed hinges indicating the doors had been recently ripped off. Dried blood splatters were all over the walls and floor.

"Ugh, let's just find the bastard already," Pip mumbled behind his hand, "Where is he?"

Seras shook her head again, whirling her head every which way.

"I don't know," she repeated, sounding a little frightened now, "They didn't have a scent."

Pip's eye widened, "_What?_"

"I can't sense anything," she continued, "I mean I could when we were fighting earlier, but...they don't have a scent or a presence."

Pip blinked at her. She couldn't sense them. Was that even possible?

"Why didn't I notice that before?" Seras was still murmuring, "I could smell everything just fine until..."

_Until we came in here. _Pip's fingers itched for a cigarette again.

"Hey, it's okay, girlie," he said softly, patting her shoulder as Seras was beginning to grow increasingly more panicked, "If you can't sense them, then we'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way. No big deal, right?"

She stared uneasily at him for a moment, before nodding. Pip gave her shoulder a final pat, before moving past her. Truthfully, without Seras's vampiric senses, he didn't have the slightest idea of where to go. But he thought they may as well start on the right side of the house, which smelled marginally better.

Slowly, guided by whatever weak moonlight managed to filter into the house, Pip headed through the threshold. He could hear Seras's footsteps on the creaking floorboards behind him as she covered his back.

The next room was almost an exact replica of the first, save for a short, narrow hallway at the right. They had almost made it to the end of the room, when Seras suddenly grabbed his bicep.

"Wait," she whispered, eyes incredibly large and blue in the dark, "Wait a minute."

Pip nodded slowly, tightening his grip on the flamethrower's hose as she released him. Seras was turning every which way again, trying to pinpoint the source of her discomfort.

"Something's not right," she said softly, either to herself or Pip, he wasn't sure, "Something's not right, I-"

The vampire smashed into him with the force of a freight train. Pip gasped, the breath knocked out of him instantly as his knees buckled and his face slammed into the dusty floor. Pain and stars exploded across his vision as he heard Seras shout, and there was a high-pitched snarl above him that rattled his bones.

The weight of the flamethrower on his back was ripped at, metal creaking and he was pulled back violently as the metal buckles literally snapped like thread. Pip blinked furiously at the splotches of color in front of his eyes, though even with the pain dulling his senses he could hear the sound of the propane tank crashing into a faraway wall.

"Shit!" he spat, and fumbled blindly for his gun, but was yanked upwards before he could get a grip on it. A large, frigid hand clamped down on his neck, sharp nails digging into the sides, but he couldn't process much else besides how _cold _it was. He could feel the heat of his own blood against it, and that single feeling overwhelmed all the pain and dizziness muddling him. Suddenly, Pip could see everything-every vivid, horrific detail of the creature's face in razor clarity.

Long gleaming strands of drool dripped steadily from the dark cavern of its mouth. For someone who lived in a house with two vampires for the better half of a year now, it never occurred to him how fucking _sharp _those teeth were.

The vampire's green eye drifted loosely near the left corner. The black eye was a chunk of dark ice, only the dim light of instinct still persistently flickering. Pip's heart flipped completely onto its side.

"Let him go _now_!" Seras snarled, her voice low, on the edge of something dangerous, "Or I'll blow your head across the room!"

She had the Harkonnen trained, the endless black tunnel of the barrel staring down vacantly at them. Pip gritted his teeth as the vampire pulled him closer by the neck as a shield, to the point where he could feel its clammy, decayed breath across his neck.

"Watch the...fucking..merchandise," he wheezed, able to do little else but snark. Not that it did anything since it didn't even glance at him. It didn't even seem to _understand _him.

It just kept staring blankly at Seras, like the rest of its nestmates before it, with its head tilted slightly to the side like a dead fish. He didn't know how much time passed in silence, save for the cracking of metal as Seras's grip grew tighter and tighter around her rifle. But when the vampire finally moved, Pip, for a split-second, felt nearly relieved.

The feeling vanished instantly when it pulled him to face-level, regarding him in a way that clearly said it didn't give a fuck about hostages anymore. Its mouth yawned open, creaking like Hell's gates. Somewhere far away, Seras screamed his name

For a moment, Pip felt nothing. There was no life flashing before his eyes, no warm memories to swim back to, no recount of his surprisingly short list of regrets.

Instead he thought ridiculously of wanting a cigarette again.

_Aw, fuck, _the vampire's face is nothing but a mass of teeth, with fetid death on its breath, _To die like a pathetic dog in front of her..._

Then the vampire's head exploded.

Something blasted right past his left ear as Pip stood frozen, unblinking, even as a shower of blood and brains sprayed all over him. He heard Seras yelp behind him and then the sound of splintering wood, but couldn't turn around.

The vampire's grasp on him loosened by margins, it's claws still curled as it tumbled over. Slowly, its headless corpse slid down sideways and out of his line of sight.

In its place was Alucard, psychotic grin in place, with the Casull in his hand.

"I may have overestimated you slightly, Frenchman," he jeered, tucking the large gun back into his coat, "It seems you don't quite know how to play with your toys."

Pip stared, vampire blood dripping down the bridge of his nose.

"Mr...Alucard...?" he mumbled, slightly in shock.

Seras was more vocal.

"Master, you could've killed him!" she screamed, stomping over, glaring incredulously up at her sire, whose expression didn't change at all.

"Why, yes, police girl, I did just kill the freak that you were so utterly incapable of killing yourself. Please, not an ounce of gratitude is necessary."

"_That's not what I meant! _You nearly blew the Captain's head off!"

"I believe the key word is 'nearly.'"

A sinking feeling was beginning to form in Pip's gut. Reluctantly, he turned to look over his shoulder, face paling at the cannonball-sized hole the Casull's bullet had left in the opposite wall. The bullet that had whizzed centimeters from his face.

"Merde," he breathed, making both vampires turn to him, "Your aim is ridiculous, Mr. Alucard."

By the frustrated groan Seras made, she'd been expecting some support from him. Alucard's grin just widened.

"Let's just do this and get out of this creepy place," Seras grumbled, annoyed, "Where are the other six, Master?"

"Dead," he replied, and then blinked when they stared incredulously at him.

"What?"

Pip was gaping; though he had been aware Alucard was the stronger vampire from the beginning, he was still learning exactly how much of a _powerful _fucker he was, particularly when he and Seras had both nearly died just facing two of the vampires down together.

"Master, I can't sense them at all," Seras suddenly brought up, her previous anxiety inching back into her face, "They don't have a scent or aura."

Alucard arched an eyebrow at her, looking momentarily impressed that she knew how to sense auras at all, before shrugging.

"And? What would you expect once you stepped inside?"

Pip and Seras blinked at him. "Huh?"

"It seems whatever happened here in the past, some impressive magic was used," Alucard explained, looking pointedly for whatever reason, at Pip, "The entire house is now essentially acting as a seal for anything supernatural."

Pip's eye bugged slightly. _WHAT?_

"WHAT?!" Seras repeated out loud, looking completely stunned, "How can that be? T-Then, Master, does this mean your powers are-"

"Gone," Alucard finished, sounding more chagrinned than anything else, "It seems all we have retained is our strength and speed."

He didn't even seem remotely concerned, as if he had just misplaced his keys for the third time in a row, instead of lose over the majority of his powers.

Pip was bewildered; he'd been hearing ugly things about the tower since his childhood, mostly decapitated animals and suicides, but he'd never imagined an old rotting place like this could contain something even remotely so threatening.

Seras was on the barest edge of panic, seemingly more distraught by how her master couldn't use his creepy shadow powers anymore than anything pertaining to herself.

"Oh my God, what are we going to do then?" she cried, her hands flittering like nervous birds, "We..We should...call Sir Integra or something!"

Alucard snorted loudly. "Try again."

"We could leave," Pip said. It stunk to high heaven in here anyway.

"Better," the elder vampire commended, "The seal's effect is likely temporary."

"Then what are we standing here for?" Seras demanded, and in a moment of courage or extreme nervousness, reached out to tug at Alucard's arm, "Let's go, Master!"

Alucard's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, but he didn't shake her off and allowed himself to be pulled toward the door, deeply amused. Pip moved to follow, when the flamethrower the vampire had grabbed from him suddenly popped into his mind again.

"Hold on," he said, already turning around, "Let me just get my-"

He cut himself off with a wild swear.

"_HOLY SHIT!"_

There was a woman. There was a woman who hadn't been there before, who was now standing only a _fucking meter_ _away from them_. A long black widow's dress gathered at her bare feet and ink black hair streamed down her shoulders and back, shadowing her eyes.

He knew she was the master vampire without even thinking.

Pip yanked out his gun, fixing it on her just as the Harkonnen's barrel suddenly sprang out over his shoulder.

"Oh?" Alucard's deep, coldly amused voice boomed from behind, "So you've decided to come down from your tower?"

There was no reply and for a moment, Pip thought she would be mute like all the others.

"Why did you kill my children?" a soft hissing voice asked, pouring ice shards down Pip's spine, "They did nothing to you."

Alucard chuckled maliciously, and the wooden floorboards creaked as he walked forward.

"What you and your children have done is no concern of mine," he said nonchalantly, and the dark shadow he cast over the room made his eyes glow even redder than before, "This is where you'll join them. That's all you need to know."

She lifted her head. Pip heard Seras choke down a gasp. The woman had the same unnerving combination of green and black eyes, but there was a ring of yellow-blue rot around the lazy one, making it bulge outward, as if it were about to pop out of the socket.

The black eye was flatter than the other vampires' had been and narrower, with a distinctive Asian quality to it. It was the single most hateful, most overwhelmingly evil look he'd ever seen.

Pip swallowed hard, feeling the acidic burn of bile crawling up his throat.

"You talk so big," she rasped, "But in here you are only a weak thing. I will rip out your tongues and eyes, one for each of my children."

Pip's blood froze in his veins.

Alucard's smile didn't change.

"Is that right?"

Then with speed beyond Pip's imagination, the Jackal was out. The resounding explosion of gunfire rattled his brain.

The woman hissed, taken by complete surprise, and barely managed to twist to the side in time. Pip watched with unadulterated horror as the bullet sliced through the air, hitting the puddle of liquid that had formed around his punctured flamethrower instead.

It ignited instantly. The flames burst forth like some wild animal, eating away rapidly at the veiled furniture, making easy kindling out of the dry air and rotted wood. In a matter of seconds the whole back wall was on fire.

Seras gasped, the Harkonnen nearly slipping from her grip, as Pip backed away further toward the other side of the room. The heat was already rising, smothering the air with smoke and ember and crackling flames.

Neither Alucard nor the woman seemed to even notice.

She gave the fire a cursory glance, utterly expressionless.

"Are you to destroy everything you see?" she asked dully.

Alucard grinned widened, and the first horrific glimpses of his monstrous dentistry glinted beneath his thin lips.

"It's a more decorative setting don't you think?" he lilted, "What more fitting place for monsters to fight than in Hell?"

The woman stared at him. "Hell?"

She straightened, skeletal hands slipping together behind her back. In the flickering red shadows, her green eye swiveled and bulged.

"Hell is much lovelier than this."

What she pulled from behind her was a gray blur, one that he didn't have time to distinguish before he was staring down into its pitch black barrel.

The woman's lips twitched, the first cracks of a cruel smile showing through and Pip has only enough time to think '_Holy fuck, that's a goddamn fucking bazooka_,_' _before he has to run for his life.

The next few moments were encompassed by a sound not unlike a rocket taking off two centimeters from his ear. Pip dove blindly toward the ground, hearing wood splintering and the roof groaning and the accompanying gust that swept the stench of charred death and smoke up his nostrils. He choked and gagged slightly, waving his hand fiercely in an attempt to dispel the smell and smoke.

Something soft and light suddenly collided into his side-it was Seras, struggling to right herself again with the massive Harkonnen still in her clutches. But before Pip had time to think some completely inappropriate and ridiculous perverted thought, she was wrenching him to his feet, nearly pulling his arm out of his socket.

Good thing too, as the next instant he had to dodge wildly again. The cannonball sized hole the Jackal made had been torn open, like a gaping wound across the wall, and he could hear the destruction of the wooden panels and furniture of the adjacent room. Creaks and groans wailed out from the ceiling, a shower of dust and dirt and other foul smelling things began pouring down, feeding the flames higher.

Pip wondered for a moment what exactly was supporting the house at all.

Beyond the thickening smoke, he could still make out Alucard, his red eyes glittering eagerly, even as flames nearly licked the fringes of his coat. The Casull was drawn out now too, the white and black sheen of the twin guns taking on an orange tinge as they were raised them.

He fired endlessly, the intense recoils of each gun a mere hitch in his large hands. The woman turned and spun and twisted like a writhing snake, as she tried to dodge the relentless hail of bullets.

Finally, one damning misstep blew a hole the size of a small crater through her left side. Blood spurted out in arcs, as she screeched insanely and crumpled to one knee, a hand clenching down on the flesh near the wound, red pouring down her white skin in vivid splotches.

Not missing a beat, Alucard shot her in the elbow next.

The shattering of pale bone made the bile rise in Pip's throat again. The woman howled like a dying animal, her dark blood congealing in a puddle, staining the bottom of her dress. With a deafening crash, she dropped the bazooka.

"You rabid dog!" she shrieked, her black eye shrunken to a pinpoint, every semblance of previous calm gone, "I'm going to feast on your heart!"

The hatred in her eyes was overwhelming, dark and thick like oblivion, even half-dead as she was. Pip's stomach plunged.

The woman straightened slightly from her crouch. Her eyes glinted madly, dancing with wickedness, and for a moment it looked like she was going to leap at them.

But in the next instant, she pivoted sharply, her hair flying like snakes and tore down the opposite, flame-engulfed hallway, leaving them to stare at her bloody footprints.

Alucard barked a sharp, manic laugh.

"So you think you can run, huh?" he said, tsk-ing as he shook his head like a deranged child, "_YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN, HUH?"_

He was clearly lost in some kind of bloodlust; his barely concealed madness showing through like a bright stain. Being the physically closest to the vampire at the current moment, Pip did what he'd been advised to do with Alucard from the start.

He slowly backed the fuck away.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the pink of Seras's jacket as she shifted next to him, and thought that she was trying to keep her distance too.

She proved him wrong instantly by shoving past him.

"Master!" she screamed, nearly tripping in her urgency. Pip gaped as she grabbed for her sire through the flames, "Master, no!"

But Alucard's mind was somewhere long gone. He didn't even look their way when he shot off down the hall, guns in hand, parting the fire like a curtain. Seras's hand barely grazed over the corner of his overcoat before clenching over nothing.

"SHIT!" she snarled, and her voice was so angry that all Pip could do for a moment was blink.

Then the ceiling began to creak and groan loudly as the flames finally reached it. A deep rumble shook the area as the floor vibrated beneath their feet. Several chunks of the walls crumbled down and around them.

Pip backed away uneasily. He'd been through too fucking much to not see an imminent collapse when one was staring him in the face.

"We better get out of here, mignonette," he advised nervously, "This place can't hold up much longer."

He didn't get a reply and when he turned to her, his eye nearly popped out of its socket. Seras had hefted the Harkonnen onto her back again, and was trying to hurry through the sea of flames.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he squawked, yanking her back, only for the girl to fend him off.

"I'm going after Master, Captain," she said, her face all scrunched in determination, "There's something wrong with that woman and Master might need my help."

Pip just stared at her, having trouble processing anything that was being said to him.

"_What? _No, no, Seras, _he _will be fine. _We _need to get the hell out of here, before this place becomes our grave!"

The draculina just shook her head.

"There's something very bad about her, Captain," she said, and the haunted tone of her voice sent a rush of cold down Pip's back despite the sweltering heat, "And my master doesn't have his powers."

"He seems to be doing just fine without them," Pip retorted helplessly, but Seras just ignored him.

"Please get outside, sir," she said, turning toward the nearly incinerated hallway, "I need to go find my master."

And then she was gone, the last of her pale blonde hair vanishing into the inferno. Even the pitter patter of her footsteps was swallowed by the crackling and snapping of the wooden support beams. Pip stared after her, glued to his spot.

The rational part of him was snapping at him to haul ass. Yes, there was something severely off and fucked up about that woman, but he was just a frail human made of flesh and bone and hair, who was probably going to burn to death before he could ever do anything about her. If the house collapsed, then he was the only one who would die with near absolute certainty, because Alucard was a crazy apocalyptic monster and Seras was possibly made out of titanium and it's not like he could actually help or that he was _needed, _he should just leave them here before he was roasted alive...

_Yeah, keep telling yourself that, mon ami_.

Pip swore loudly, and sprinted after her, his hand clamped like a vice around his gun.

_Goddamn vampires._


	4. Chapter 4

Here's the fourth chapter! I'm finally getting into the actually plot of the story XD Sorry 'bout how long-winded I am!

As always though, drop a review if you get the chance and hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The Witch House (4)**

* * *

Alucard found that he quite liked France. First, there was the lack of rain; it took him two hundred years to get use to the ridiculous amounts of rain that plagued England, so France already got high marks just for that. Second were the women. All such lovely, provocative little creatures. With their tight skirts and cleavage-filled tank tops. Only in his most delusional dreams could he see his master ever dressed like that.

Of course it'd been slightly annoying to have to wake up at noon to fly over the channel, but he had the best time drinking from his virgin donor as she writhed and groaned in French, large breasts practically popping out of her skimpy outfit. He even managed to make a flight attendant wet himself just by smiling at him, which was always hilarious.

By the time they'd arrived at the village, he'd been in a great mood, and it only seemed to be getting better.

"My, what a resilient little thing you are," he purred, sliding the Jackal into the folds of his coat. There wasn't any need for it now.

The woman was crumpled on her knees, muscle and tendon hanging by thin slivers of flesh. White broken bone protruded out of her at jutting angles and her mangled right arm had been blown somewhere up into the rafters. He was pretty sure there was more blood in the lake at her feet by this point than in her actual body.

Yet somehow she was still alive.

"Is it too much to hope you'll regenerate?" he drawled, reloading the Casull.

She hissed and spat at him, crimson drool dripping from her lip.

"You...bastard," she croaked, her eye twitching again, "I'll kill you..."

What pain tolerance. Alucard was a bit impressed. While as pathetically weak as he thought, she was still semi-standing after he'd emptied an entire magazine into her, which was more than could be said about most things he came across. His curiosity was slightly piqued.

"What's your name?"

She blinked, surprised by the question, and for a moment, stared like a dumb animal at him.

"...Why?" she eventually snapped, black eye narrowed into a suspicious slit.

Alucard shrugged. "It's been a good five or six decades since I fought anything half-way decent. I like to remember the special ones."

The woman stared at him, an incredulous scowl twitching at her lips. Her black eye widened however, gaining a more bemused look as her green eye hung loosely in the right corner.

"My children called me...Kanna," she rasped eventually.

"Kanna," he repeated, grinning, "What an interesting one you are. I'm almost curious about what your blood will tell me."

"Have you forgotten you've lost that ability?" she hissed, "Is it not clear yet you have no powers in here?"

"Is it not clear yet I don't need them?" Alucard crooned, "Besides, your little spell will end soon enough."

She whipped her head toward him, blood-soaked hair smacking wetly against her chest. Her decayed face was twisted and speechless. Like she thought he hadn't known it was her from the beginning. How cute.

"You must've felt quite at home here. This house is practically flooded with your energy," he lilted, a mad glint in his eye, "But your seal is..._nothing_ compared to the ones I've seen. Once the fires burn through the walls of this tower, it'll break easily."

He didn't have to say anymore about what would happen after.

She was silent, but the stiff set of her shoulders and the lowered black eye showed the implication got through. Alucard smirked; he supposed the professional thing to do would have been to blow her brains across the wall, but he actually kind of wanted her blood.

The energy holding the seal in place was incredibly weak, like a loose, frayed scarf unraveling around his throat, but the force exuding from Kanna was much more concentrated, lashing out in sharp, icy waves. The imbalance was intriguing and he wanted to know why.

Until then, he slipped a hand into his pocket and leaned against the wall, surveying the tower room. Rotted wallpaper hung off the woodwork like loose pieces of meat on a bone. Most of the walls had splintered into fisted sized holes from the Casull, and then several large gaping ones from the Jackal.

His smirk turned into a malicious grin when he saw the trail of black smoke curling through them from downstairs. It wouldn't be long now.

In the meantime, since it would be boring just to stand here waiting...

"I noticed all your fledglings inherited your _interesting _facial features," he commented airily, "Tell me, how did you do that? I've been thinking red eyes would look better on the police girl."

The responding roar was expectant and hilarious.

"_How dare you even speak of them, you monster!_" she screeched, two strangely elongated fangs emerging behind her lips, "They were nothing but worms before me! I made them into perfection! I made them _beautiful_!"

"Oh, am I the monster now? Can you even see out of that right eye of yours? Your fledglings certainly couldn't. I killed them each with one shot," Alucard's demonic eyes lit up excitedly, "Would you like to know which ones screamed the loudest?"

She was flying at him before he'd even finished the sentence. A feral scream tore from her throat, her black eye almost aflame with hatred and a shower of her own blood followed after her in a splattered trail.

Alucard just kept smiling, flipped the Casull in his hand and shot her in the knee. Her shriek choked off abruptly and she fell in a jumbled heap at his feet, too immobilized by pain to even scream.

"You think you're beautiful, do you?" he asked softly, voice low and predatory, "You turned them, because you thought you were doing them a favor right? Those brain-dead, half-blind pieces of trash."

"I gave up everything to be this," she rasped, glaring hatefully up at him, her bloodied black hair plastered over half her face, "Those men begged like dogs for beauty and eternal youth such as ours. What does a creature like _you _know about what I can do? Wielding your silver-armed guns, killing your own kind at the behest of humans, you've probably never had to make any choices or build yourself up. Power just fell into your lap like a dead thing. You—"

Her next words cut off by a hideous chuckle from Alucard, whose eyes were redder and colder than the blood congealing on the floorboards.

"Silly deluded little girl, very few of our kind can be beautiful," he giggled, "And it'll never be you or me."

"No, you're wrong," she whispered, shaking her head violently, "You're wrong. I gave up _everything_—"

"Then why don't you try it out?" he asked, darkly amused, and slid the Casull into his coat. He could feel the licks of flames curling around the seal embedded into the walls of the tower; parts of the wallpaper were already starting to smolder and crumble.

"Show me exactly what you are capable of doing." Something sinister glinted in her eye after he said that, and Alucard's grin widened, a giddy type of eagerness beginning to flare up inside him and he could feel the writhing of his familiars as they unwound beneath his skin—

_CRASH_

"Master!"

"Mr. Alucard!"

Alucard would never, for the rest of his miserable existence, understand why he decided to turn around.

"...Police girl?" He blinked at his petite fledgling, who stood with her Harkonnen towering over her back and at Pip who was slightly panting, gun drawn out and braid coming loose, and thought for a moment that he'd almost forgotten the man had come along.

Then every other thought was blown clear out of his head as the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt since Abraham's stake exploded through his body.

_Wha—?_

His familiars screamed, a cacophonous chorus of pain echoing through his head, so sudden and obliteratingly loud that he saw nothing but black for a moment. Somewhere within that twisting mess of sound, he heard Seras and Pip yelling.

When the darkness faded enough that he could make out the room again, the first thing he saw was a thin pale hand protruding from his chest. Blood blossomed across his white shirt like macabre flowers.

"I'll show you," a raspy female voice whispered behind him, "I'll show you _exactly _what I can do."

A torrent of hot white light flooded across his vision, scalding the back of his eyelids and the inside of his ears. It was bubbling up his throat too, scorching off flesh and muscle, burning away his voice into nothing. His familiars screamed as they cooked inside him.

Maybe he screamed as well. He didn't know; his vision and hearing were filled with white fire, and something much like a sizzling knife was in his throat. He wondered for a split second, if she had somehow sent him into the sun, and felt a very real streak of panic course through him.

But then a familiar hiss of a voice came slithering through his mind.

_It seems your childe and the human are quite loyal to you, _Kanna murmured, sounding bemused, if not for the deranged, gleeful undertone, _Such devotion should be rewarded._

The words have barely landed across his consciousness when the burning in his eyes and ears vanished. The whole room came colliding into his reopened senses like a concrete wall and he scrambled to absorb it all in short disjointed increments.

The walls were already on fire. The ceiling and floors were splintering. The police girl was raging, eyes bloody red with fury. The Frenchman was cursing hideously, white-knuckling his gun. They were both sprinting at him.

And the hand in his chest was glowing white, blistering and hot and waiting.

Alucard opened his mouth to yell, to roar _Stop you idiots, _but the white destructive heat in his throat was still there and his voice wouldn't come at all.

Clenching his teeth, he turned to the next best alternative and half-twisted around. He almost shoved the Jackal's muzzle right through her forehead, blood be damned, and only took a moment to stare into the green eye that was looking directly at him.

_Too late..._ her voice hummed and he heard two screams behind him.

He blew her head off at such a close range it bounced off the opposite wall nearly ten meters away. But Alucard didn't have time to enjoy the view.

Seras and Pip were both on the floor, gasping wildly, with pupils shrunken into pinpoints. Chunks of the rafters began breaking off and crashing a hair's breadth away from them.

Alucard shoved Kanna's body off of him with a violent kick, not even feeling the pain as the hand dislodged from his chest. His flesh was already threading back together even as he walked briskly to the pair. He picked up Seras by the waist and slung Pip over his shoulder as the ceiling above them let out a final pathetic groan.

Opening a portal on a non-flaming section of the wall, Alucard stepped inside with one angry, ferocious thought in mind.

_I'm razing France to the ground._

* * *

Seras awoke in total darkness. She could feel soft wet grass beneath her and hear the night crickets chirping in a sweeping arc all around her. The air was filled with the stench of charred wood and ash. She blinked, saw nothing, and for a second couldn't remember what happened.

_What—_

Then it instantly came crashing back to her. The mission, the woman, the collapsing tower as she sprinted up the stairs with Pip at her heels, the hand that burst from her master's chest, how everything leaked red in her eyes and then white hot like they were on fire. After that, there'd been nothing but darkness.

Seras sat up slowly, feeling aches and bruises all over her. Wherever she was, most likely outside, it was pitch black and though she blinked several times, she couldn't see anything.

"Master?" she ventured nervously after a moment, and nearly leaped into outer space when a large gloved hand landed on hers.

"Master," Seras sighed in relief, "Are you alright?"

There was no reply, but her hand was squeezed once firmly in reassurance. Seras's eyebrows raised, but as long as he was okay, she didn't pay any mind. Alucard's scream was still ringing faintly in her ears, chilling her blood and bones.

"That's good," she breathed, looked up from his hand, hoping to see his face, even if it had an annoying grin on.

Everything was still black. She couldn't even see the glow of Alucard's eyes. As rapidly as it'd disappeared, a cool panic began trickling through her mind again.

"Are we in a cave or something?" she asked, slightly nervous, "It's pitch black here. Didn't you say we could see perfectly in the dark? I can't see anything and-"

She cut herself off with a yelp as two large hands suddenly grabbed both sides of her face and yanked her forward.

"_Ow! _Master what on Earth-?!"

Alucard's long cool fingers were over one of her eyes, prying them wide open. Seras struggled.

"Master, stop! Stop, that _hurts_, what are you—"

She froze. It suddenly hit her with the force of a jackhammer.

"Oh my God," she murmured, almost to herself, "It's not dark at all is it?"

Again there was only silence. But her master's hands stilled on her face and then released her. Seras just sat there, staring out at who knows what, all her thoughts jumbling together in her head.

Blind. She was blind.

"Oh my God," she repeated, barely feeling the words leave her lips, "Holy _shit_."

Her master shifted softly beside her, almost uncomfortably. Then his hand was over hers again. She nearly shook him off, thinking he was about to embark on some horribly misguided attempt at comfort.

But then a soft pulse of energy went through her from the contact; it was that same dark, smooth, almost tangible touch against her mind she'd come to know so well.

_Police girl..._ Alucard's voice was a mere wisp, so thin and weak she barely registered it.

"Master?" she asked out loud, full on panicking now. She had no idea what was going on, but all of sudden she was blind and Alucard's presence seemed somehow...faded, not half as immense as it was only a few hours ago. The hand over hers tightened its grip.

_...speak... _

_What? _Seras shook her head; it was like trying to understand someone talking underwater.

"Master, I can't understand you. Why don't you just say it?"

She winced when the tight hold he had over her hand turned vice-like, but didn't pull back when his mental touch seemed to grow stronger as well.

_Can't speak..._

For a second, Seras hoped she misunderstood him again, but already knew deep down that she hadn't. She was blind and he was mute.

"Dear God," she said simply, and because it was the second thing that popped into her head, added, "Sir Integra is going to kill us."

The hand over hers loosened slightly, as if the equivalent of rolled eyes, but Alucard sent out another mental wave before she could begin to properly freak out.

_...Frenchman..._

She had to focus incredibly hard to discern what he'd said, but she gasped and leapt to her feet when she did.

"Captain Bernadette!" she exclaimed, feeling incredibly ashamed that she had forgotten all about him, "He was next to me when the target hit us with that weird white light! He could be hurt, Master, we have to find him!"

Seras whirled around, only to remain glued to the spot when she realized all over again she had no idea where anything was.

"Eh, uh, Master? Where are we exactly...?"

The soft tip of Alucard's coat grazed her thigh as he brushed past her. She could just imagine the exasperated look he had on right now, and felt a bit foolish and nervous standing there as she heard his footsteps fade away. Another instant later, however, something large was dumped to her left, making her jump.

"...je vous en prie, mignonette..!" Came Pip's sleep-befuddled voice and Seras slapped her hand against her forehead.

"Good God, Captain, wake up!" she yelled, fighting the ferocious blush spreading across her face when she thought of what he was dreaming about. And with her master standing right there!

"..huh? Wha?" Seras waited in mortified silence as she listened to Pip get oriented again. His return to awareness was soon punctuated with a surprised yell at near ear-splitting volume.

"MON DIEU, MIGNONETTE, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EYES?!"

Seras winced at the loud sound against her sensitive vampiric hearing.

"We're in trouble, Captain. Listen, that woman did something to Master and I, and now we can't—"

"WHAT?"

Seras blinked uselessly at the interruption.

"...Uh, I said that woman did something to Master and I—"

"WHAT?" Pip suddenly hollered again, which he followed with a series of smacking sounds that reminded her of what she used to do when water got into her ears. A lump of dread began forming at the base of her stomach.

"Oh, no."

"WHAT? SORRY, MIGNONETTE, I CAN'T HEAR YOU...!"

Whatever the rest of his sentence would have been was interrupted by a loud sudden 'clap' against his mouth.

"MIFER ARUCARD?!" Pip's surprised and slightly muffled voice said, from under what was mostly likely her master's hand, "WUNT ARE YOU 'OING?"

His question was replied with a louder, more insistent clap across his mouth that sounded like it just about knocked the man over. There was another bout of silence before Pip seemed to understand what was trying to be said.

"Too loud?" he asked hesitantly, and she nodded furiously, her crackling ears grateful for the respite as she heard Alucard's hand leave Pip's face.

"Sorry, I can't fucking hear anything," came Pip's sheepish reply, and Seras felt Alucard's hand land on her shoulder.

_...deaf..._

Though she guessed as much, Seras's stomach dropped into her knees.

"Oh, great," she muttered, throwing her hands up a tad hysterically, "What the hell are we suppose to do now?"

_Blind, deaf and mute, _she thought in her head, as if it was suppose to somehow make her feel better, which it didn't. At the current point, Seras was having trouble just figuring out how they were even suppose to communicate with each other, let alone get back to England or find out what happened.

"Um, I'm still a little confused on the details, if anyone wouldn't mind..." Pip's puzzled voice floated over. Alucard's hand abruptly left her shoulder.

She stood there dumbly as she listened to her master saunter away. Then there was something like wood snapping in half, before his footsteps returned. She was hearing him scrape something against the dirt ground when she got it.

"That's a good idea, Master," she said, smiling slightly. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that Alucard could simply write down what he wanted to say.

Pip had a more negative reaction.

"Police girl's blind. I'm mute. And you're deaf," he read out loud, Alucard's bluntness practically palpable through the words. There was a long beat and then—

"_WHAT_?!"

Seras raced to protect her ears, though she could still hear her master stabbing something furiously into the dirt. It must've been along the lines of 'Shut up _now_ or I'll eat your face' because Pip immediately quieted down again.

"What-this-how—?!" Pip's confusion sounded even less coherent than usual now that he couldn't hear. Inexplicably, Seras imagined him with his eyes bulging and his mouth flapping like a goldfish and had to smother an inappropriate giggle.

Her master was scratching something down again.

"It was a spell," Pip read out loud, a little dazedly, "She was also the one who created the seal for this place—wait, you mean that woman with the rotting face?"

"Okay, why don't we just have her reverse the spell?" Seras added in quickly, feeling a small ray of hope for the first time, "You have her tied up somewhere, right Master?"

There was an ominous pause. Then more scratching…

"She's dead," went Pip flatly.

And like that, Seras's soaring ship of hope and joy crashed and burned and liquefied into a soppy molten mess, which then killed all plants and animals within a 10 kilometer radius.

"Bloody hell," she said blankly, as her master continued writing.

"We should've been released from her spell by now—maybe you didn't kill her then?"

Scratch Scratch Scratch

"I did, her head boun—Dieu, mignonette, I think she's definitely dead."

"Stop crushing my hopes even more than they've already been crushed."

"What?"

Seras restrained the urge to bang her head several times against a tree. First off, because she still didn't know where they were standing and secondly, it wouldn't have been helpful at all toward their already incredibly inefficient triad of communication.

"Never mind."

"What?"

"…"

Scratch Scratch

"Police girl, call Integra and tell her what happened."

"_What?!"_ she squawked, unsure where either men was and settled for glaring in their general direction, "Why do I have to call her?"

Scratch Scratch Scratch

"In case you still haven't noticed, I can't speak and the Frenchman can't hear_. _You're the only option, so call her and get her to send a jet to pick us up—geez, good luck with that, ma cherie."

Seras sputtered. She knew it made sense, but having to explain to Integra the situation was not the most appealing thing she could think of, particularly since this was suppose to be an easy mission.

"She's going to be so angry though," she mewled, which was only replied by Alucard taking her wrist and plopping his already-dialed phone into her hand.

Seras sighed in defeat and wrapped her fingers around the phone. For a ridiculous moment, she cursed being blind instead of deaf or mute; what exactly were the benefits of it compared to the other two? And she could practically feel the waves of relief and pity coming from her master and Pip, the cowardly jerks.

_Why is this my life? _Seras wondered in vague, ineffectual despair, as the sound of the dial tone rang ominously against her ear.


	5. Chapter 5

A/n: What am I even doing at midnight right now? XD Just needed to get this chapter up and keep the plot going, since it'll be picked up significantly faster once the Alu-Team get back to Hellsing.

Again, please enjoy and R&R!

* * *

**The Witch House (5)**

* * *

In retrospect, Integra wondered why she thought the whole mission could've shaped up in any other way than it did.

"What do they mean they're not there?" she demanded, squinting angrily at the report in front of her, "Did they mix up the meeting spots or something?"

Walter, who had pulled up a chair by her desk, calmly sifted through another stack of reports.

"It seems the agreement was that our team would head into the forest alone, dispose of the target, and return to a clearing near the forest's edge at 3:30 AM for the flight," he said, gray eyes rolling down the columns of words before cringing at a particular section, "Apparently, they never showed and the plane eventually departed at 4:30."

Integra's eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

"They _left _them?" she roared, slamming her fist down so hard against the desk, Walter had to dive forward to rescue her teacup before it shattered all over the floor.

"Shall I get one of the officials on the phone, Sir Integra?" he asked hesitantly, placing the china onto a nearby bookshelf out of harm's way.

"No, don't bother," Integra snapped, squeezing the life out of another fountain pen, "Their network is completely disorganized. Odds are we'll be told the exact same thing again."

_Incompetent fools. _She clenched her teeth furiously at the mere thought of needing to contact anyone from the French government at all. God knows she had tried her best to keep Hellsing out of foreign affairs for this precise reason.

"Why the hell did they leave?" she demanded, having a death glare battle with the report.

"It seems the land the forest sits on is partly swamp," her butler quickly answered, flipping to another page, "It can get very moist and humid at night and they hadn't wanted to risk being stranded if the engine broke down."

Integra nearly snapped her pen in half.

"That's complete bullshit," she growled, "If the engine was an issue, they should've waited at the village instead of flying off. Bloody cowards were probably too scared to wait any longer in the area."

"Yes, well, the French aren't particularly known for their bravery," Walter couldn't help but comment. "Should we alert Her Majesty about this?"

Integra sighed in frustration, letting go of the mangled pen.

"My word alone won't move her on the matter," she said, reaching for her cigar case, "She's been reassured so many times on how low-level the mission is, she might not even take it seriously. And the Queen already knows I've been against these…_relations_ from the beginning."

Walter nodded. "I see. Then perhaps if I called Sir Islands? It would likely hold more weight if the whole council implored her to intervene."

Integra released an even deeper, more disgusted sigh.

"You don't have to call anyone, Walter," she replied, sliding the case open, "At the current moment, the Round Table will not want to support me."

Walter blinked. "…Pardon?"

"To them, this arrangement is an easy way to make friends," she explained, looking repulsed that the words even came out of her mouth, "They'll just think I'm being difficult and unreasonable."

"But surely it would be even worse in the end if something _had _happened to them and the French took no action."

Integra nodded silently, slipping a cigar between her lips. Though she was having trouble believing anything could've happened, she knew Walter had a point. And after getting into the fourth passive-aggressive argument with Sir Islands about the matter, he had finally gotten fed up and told her he'd talk to the rest of the council. But for the moment, her hands were more or less tied.

"The only one I really want on the phone right now is Alucard," she muttered, after a pause, "I swear if he's just wasting his time having fun right now…"

"Shall I give him a try, Ma'am?" Walter offered, trying to calm her rising fury, "Though I recall he keeps his phone off unless he needs it."

_Which completely defeats the purpose of having a phone, _Integra thought, chewing on her cigar in severe irritation as she waved a hand at her butler.

"Go ahead, Walter."

The words had barely left her mouth when the phone suddenly started ringing, making them both jump clear out of their seats. Walter, who recovered first, stared at the caller ID.

"…It's Alucard."

He then had to dodge Integra's hand, which shot out in a tan blur, as she smashed down on the speaker button, and began screaming the second the line was connected.

"_ALUCARD_! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

Instead of the bout of deep, demented cackling she'd expected however, there was only silence.

And then…

A whimper? Integra's eyes widened.

"Alucard?" she ventured again, voice instantly softening with concern.

Walter leaned in closer as well, wondering if he had simply imagined the sound. There was distant shuffling on the other end, like a hand covering up the mouthpiece, before a muffled girlish voice spoke up eventually.

"…see? I told you. She's so mad already, I haven't even said anything yet…"

Integra and Walter sent confused glances at each other.

"Seras?" the former asked flatly after a beat.

Their suspicions were confirmed when the draculina yelped in surprise at being heard. A series of strange thumps then commenced, as if the phone had been thrown into the air like a hot potato and landed on its side some distance away. Seras's alarmed babbling could be heard in the background.

"I'm sorry, I was surprised! Oh bollocks, is it broken? Please don't be broken. Where is it? You could help me, you know! I didn't exactly see where it went!"

Walter stared, his eyebrows quickly reaching the apex of his forehead, while Integra's temper began to rise again—it certainly didn't sound like anything was horribly wrong to her.

"Seras!" she barked, instantly silencing the movement on the other end, "Answer me right now!"

There was a panicked squeak and then some hasty fumbling, before Seras's nervous, stammering voice came back on.

"S-Sir Integra. …How are you, ma'am?"

With great difficulty, Integra fought down a sigh. "Where are you, Seras? Why are you using Alucard's phone? Did you get separated?"

"Eh, uh," Seras stumbled, sounding unsure which question to answer first, "No, we didn't get separated. We're kind of still at the castle—"

"You're still _where_?" Integra interrupted sharply, and Walter felt a pang of sympathy for the young draculina when he saw the wrathful glint in her eye.

"Are you aware Seras, that you are suppose to be over the English channel right now?" she asked coolly, in an almost conversational tone, "Kilometers away from France and its castle and the nightmare that this mission predictably became. It leaves me to wonder why exactly I received a report detailing that none of you ever showed at the rendezvous point, or why I'm receiving a call from you now, or if you're planning to ask me to send a jet to go get you, since Alucard wanted to play games and spent the whole night chasing around vampires little above the level of trash."

Silence.

Then, in a very meek and soft voice…

"…oh yeah, the rendezvous point…"

Integra struggled not to hang up right there and let them figure out their own way back. The fact that Alucard had forgotten was only a half-surprise, but both Seras and Pip as well was just disappointing.

"Seras, your next words need to be a _very good_ reason for why you're in the middle of a swampy forest in France instead of landing on the roof above me." _God help all three of you if it's not._

Another quiet, hesitant pause. Walter gently gathered and straightened the messy stack of papers sprawled across Integra's desk, still wondering distantly why Seras was using Alucard's phone, or why Alucard hadn't simply taken it by now, when Seras's answer nearly made him spill the reports all over the floor.

"I…I'm blind, Sir Integra."

Walter gaped at the phone, the green speaker light glowing obliviously up at them. Integra's face was still and expressionless, like she hadn't even heard the words or that they'd sailed clear over her head.

After a long beat, she finally spoke, "…What do you mean you're blind?" And then back-tracked when she realized how ridiculous that sounded.

"What happened?" she asked shortly instead.

The next few minutes were filled with Seras's jittery and nervous voice as she explained what had occurred at the castle, including the seal on Alucard's powers and the subsequent spell cast by the female vampire.

As she spoke, Integra's face grew colder and colder, while Walter's eyes were quickly becoming the size of dinner plates. In all his years as a Hellsing agent he had never encountered anything that could permanently impair high-level vampires such as Alucard, or even younger ones like Seras. He chanced a worried glance at Integra, about to ask if he should send a plane to pick them up, when she suddenly spoke again.

"I must say I give you points for creativity, Seras," she said blandly, "You really are Alucard's childe."

Walter stared at her and there was a shocked silence on the other end.

"…you don't believe us?" Seras's horrified voice eventually asked.

And every inch of Integra' calm façade evaporated like water on a hot pan.

"Of course I don't believe you!" she yelled, slamming her hands down on her desk as she stood, "What kind of story was that?! Now get your arses home right now!"

"S-Sir Integra!" Walter stammered incredulously at her, while Seras yelped in fright.

"What do you want me to say, Walter?" Integra snapped, stabbing a finger at the phone, "I was just told a FREAK vampire managed to completely blind one of my top agents and seal the other one's powers with magical white light!"

"She wasn't a FREAK though!" Seras cried, "…at least, she didn't _seem _like one. And actually, the white light wasn't the seal, the tower was…"

Integra's eye twitched. There was shuffling heard on the other end and then a familiar, strangely loud, French voice asked, "So did we get a ride yet, Mr. Alucard?"

A throbbing vein instantly appeared on Integra's temple. So, His Majesty had been standing there without a sound the whole time, huh? She could just imagine him silently bursting a gut right now as he watched his fledgling get chewed out for him—the image just feeding her rage.

"Let me talk to Alucard," she demanded, "Give him the phone."

There was a pause, but the voice that came on was Seras's again.

"I…I can't, Sir Integra," she said softly.

Integra's eyes widened, certain that she'd misheard. Walter, who had expected Alucard to have at least said _something _by now, was beginning to find the whole strange situation a bit foreboding.

"Sir Integra, perhaps we should just send a plane for them," he advised uneasily, "We can sort everything out better once they've returned." But Integra seemed to have almost forgotten he was there.

"Give him the phone, Seras," Integra repeated through gritted teeth, "Stop protecting him. Whatever he threatened to do to you will pale in comparison to what I'll do if you don't listen to me right. now."

"No, ma'am, you don't understand, Master can't—"

"_Alucard!_" Integra roared, having heard nothing past the word 'no,' "_Answer me, servant!" _She snapped her cigar in half in her hand, fermented tobacco leaves smearing all over her white glove, death threats on the tip of her tongue.

They died in her mouth a second later, when a choked gasp came over the phone.

Integra blinked and Walter paled slightly. "…Alucard?" she ventured after a moment, weirdly at the same time as Seras's anxious, "Master?"

There was something like a 'thud' and then Integra and Walter flinched backwards as Pip's suddenly deafening voice crackled through the speaker.

"MERDE! MR. ALUCARD ARE YOU—HEY, _HEY!_" came his panicked yelling, nearly drowning out Seras's equally panicked screams of "What?! What just happened?!"

Instead of answering her however, there was a fumbling of the phone as if it was being grabbed, before Pip's voice was booming at them.

"BOSS, HE'S MUTE! YOU'RE HURTING HIM!"

Integra blinked again, not processing what was being bellowed at her. _Alucard is… _

Something coughed violently in the background, interspersing each fit with short, unproductive wheezes of breath. Integra's blood promptly froze in her veins.

"Alucard, you may stop speaking now," she said shakily and the coughing almost immediately dissolved into labored panting, followed by Pip's French curses. Seras's soft, frightened voice drifted by along with the rustle of grass, as if she was groping through them. "Captain? Captain, where…?"

"Over here, girlie," Pip said suddenly, still abnormally loud but considerably softer than before, "Here, take the phone. I can't hear what she's saying anyway."

_Can't hear…? _A sinking feeling of horror was crawling down Integra's spine. There was still not a sound from Alucard other than his distressed gasping. Integra shoved down on the cool panic beginning to try to envelope her head.

"Walter," she said quietly, "Prepare a plane for immediate departure."

The man nodded and hurried from the room without a word. Integra didn't even look up, her cerulean eyes glued to the phone.

"Seras," she said softly once the door closed, and was answered with silence for a moment before a small voice replied, "Y-Yes Sir Integra?"

"A plane will be arriving for you in about two hours. Wait for it at the originally meeting spot, understood?" Integra said, and waited until she heard a quiet affirmative, before gently adding, "We're going to figure out what happened."

She hung up without waiting for a reply and lit a new cigar, sucking in the smoke deeply before exhaling, trying to sort her frayed nerves.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Deafness, Pip found, was much like being trapped in a soundless bubble. He could see everything happening around him, from the stirring of overhead branches to the slopping mud at his feet, but there was no more rustling of dried leaves or the wet squelching of his boots to follow. No more flickering of a lighter or the clang of beer bottles, the bangs of gunfire or the drunken laughter of his men. It'd have been sad, he would have thought at the most, a little lonely. But he'd never been deep enough to consider how fucking lost he'd feel.

It was probably why he'd nearly had a heart attack when Alucard suddenly fell on his knees and spat out a spray of blood across the wet grass. Ten alarming minutes later and all Pip had figured out was that the talk with Integra had not had the best start.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, having no idea how soft or loud he was being, and received a cold glower for his trouble.

_Well sorry for being worried that you threw up blood, _Pip thought a little bitterly. Once again, he had no idea what the fuck just happened.

He'd been watching with a sinking heart as Seras tried to explain the predicament. After flinging the phone across the grass within the first few seconds, the girl had been in a timid hunch the entire conversation, both hands clutching the phone like a lifeline as her eerie white eyes blinked uselessly in distress. There didn't seem to be much talking on her end and by the way she winced, Pip could tell some yelling was taking place.

Eyeing Alucard had given no hints as to what though; the elder vampire's face could've been carved from stone with the amount of reaction he was showing. It was only after Pip, anxiously pondering if he should be planning a way back, worked up the courage to ask Alucard what was happening that he realized the vampire had not been paying one whit of attention. Brief pandemonium reigned afterwards.

In any other situation, it'd be almost funny that even powerful-beyond-comprehension things like Alucard could be caught zoning out. But since Pip preferred his throat where it was and the guy looked kind of pathetic right now, mute and pale and leaning against a tree for support, he rotated his shoulders and turned around.

"Well, if everything seems okay with the boss, I'm just going to go check out the wreckage," he said, cracking his back as he walked, and almost fell over when an offended Seras smacked him in the arm.

She fisted her hands by her side, wrinkling her nose adorably and started saying something with great agitation, despite the fact he obviously couldn't hear a word and she was staring somewhere off toward his left shoulder. Ah well, at least she looked cute while doing it.

Pip quieted her easily enough by slipping his hand through hers. He couldn't resist a slight chuckle when she jumped, her entire face glowing bright red against the night.

"C'mon, mignonette," he said, cutting off her sputtering, "It'll be easier to move if you're holding onto one of us." He could tell by the jumbling movement of her lips that she was stammering, but her fingers curled agreeably around his palm. It didn't register in his mind how freezing and pale her hand was, only that it was soft and slim and fitted perfectly in his.

They walked slowly, Pip trying to be mindful of all the rocks and roots sticking out of the ground that could trip her, though Seras toed and danced around obstacles with enough grace that he almost didn't have to. When they reached the tree, Alucard was regarding them with a mixture of amusement and disgust.

He gestured amicably enough though, letting a slightly regretful Pip deposit Seras's hand in his. She must've asked if he was okay as soon as they touched, because Alucard's eyes rolled exasperatedly. He curled his long fingers around her palm in reassurance, coaxing a relieved smile out of the draculina.

A faint pang of jealousy pulsed through Pip and he swiftly turned away. He didn't know why the sight of Seras and Alucard together bothered him so much sometimes. It wasn't as if Alucard had ever shown the remotest interest in Seras before, being so blatantly infatuated with a certain Hellsing director. Going by what little Pip knew about their bond, Seras was pretty much his kid. All that concern and affection for him was the same as any other child would have for her parent.

_Right? _Pip mopped his drawn face with his hand, wanting to wipe away his randomly pathetic feelings as well. He was already deaf and potentially stranded in a swamp, not to mention fucking _deaf, _andgetting pissed over a father-daughter relationship would just be hitting new lows.

_Plus, you 'ave to explain to Silford why his flamethrower looks like a charred suitcase now._

Pip cringed at the thought. He'd been walking through the wreckage of the house, stepping over burnt furniture and kicking aside splintered shafts when he finally located the weapon. It was surrounded by a sea of glass shards, and part of the bottom seemed to have actually liquefied. Pip toed it tenderly with his foot, but there didn't seem to be a single salvageable part left.

"Mon Dieu," he muttered to himself, just because he wanted to feel the words in his mouth, even if he couldn't hear them. He'd probably be buying at least a week's worth of drinks for Silford when he found out, and likely the whole damn squad too, since the guy could be a sadistic bastard like that.

He kicked the tank lightly in frustration and it oozed forward a few centimeters like a large half-incinerated slug. Pip wrinkled his nose in disgust and was about to turn away when a bright glint caught the corner of his eye. Curious, he crouched down and without giving it much thought, pried the object from the debris and mud it'd been embedded in.

It was a jeweled pin of a rooster, strutting and proud, colored by a delicately arranged group of emeralds, rubies and dark acrylic gems.

Pip's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at how extravagantly expensive it looked. The vampires they'd fought had worn tattered clothes and the whole place had reeked of decay and mildew. The pin didn't seem likely to belong to any of them.

Pip was just beginning to mull over the thought more deeply, when a sudden hand on his shoulder nearly made him drop the pin.

"Shit—!"

He spun around fast enough his neck cracked—hand already reaching for his gun, and ended up staring right into Alucard's annoyed face.

"Oh, it's just you, Mr. Alucard," Pip lowered his gun in relief, trying to steady his pounding heart; he was going to have to get use to deafness really soon if he didn't want to have a heart attack every five minutes.

Alucard arched an elegant eyebrow at him, as if to say '_just _me?' but pointed out toward the forest. Pip nodded, standing, "Time to go then?"

Alucard answered by shifting slightly, revealing an anxious Seras that was holding onto his hand. Roughly and without warning, he raised their intertwined hands in front of his face, dragging a startled Seras up next to him with one pull.

Pip stared at the pale appendages being waved before his nose. "…Yes, you are really gripping tight to each other…" he said eventually, clueless as to what the vampire wanted.

If the word monotone could have a face, Alucard was wearing it. From next to him, Seras stared resolutely at her feet, her face beneath the fringe of blonde bangs was fiery red.

Pip's brow began rising again; the stray thought that Alucard was trying to mock him somehow tugged at him for a brief moment. He barely managed to get irked though, before Alucard promptly lost his patience.

Pip flinched slightly when the vampire's large, freezing hand clamped down on his wrist. It jerked him forward before he could protest and nonchalantly dropped his hand into Seras's empty one. Pip's remaining eye nearly popped out of its socket and Seras looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her.

A stunned silence reigned supreme.

Utterly unruffled, Alucard calmly extracted his hand from Seras's vice grip and produced his writing stick from essentially nowhere.

_Help her walk. We're leaving. _His elegant, slanted script read in the dirt and ashes.

Pip blinked at the message and then stared at Seras, who seemed to feel his gaze and ducked her head lower. Her mouth fluttered soundlessly again and he could imagine the nervous apologies pouring forth right now. A warm, embarrassingly tender feeling coursed through him.

"Let's go then, mignonette," he said, wrapping his hand around hers, making her jump. She lifted her head slightly, and though her eyes were milky and blank, a shy little smile curled around her lips as she nodded.

Alucard, astoundingly indifferent to the affectionate display, turned heel and began heading back into the woods. Pip carefully followed with Seras in tow, a light smile forming when her fingers squeezed his palm. Absentmindedly, he stuffed the pin into his back pocket and didn't give it another thought.


	6. Chapter 6

A/n: Six is up! This one's particularly long and I think the next few chapters will probably be similar in length (or at least hopefully since it's nearly three pages of summary in my notebook).

And thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed! Your comments really mean the world to me and I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticisms that you may have :D

So without more, please enjoy!

* * *

**The Witch House (6)**

* * *

"What time is it now, Walter?"

Walter repressed a deep sigh and obligingly checked his wristwatch.

"About quarter to six, my lady," he reported for the fifth time within thirty minutes.

Integra nodded curtly, eyes fixed on a point in the scarlet sky. Her craned head would've almost resembled an excited child waiting for Santa to come, if not for the tight, worried line of her lips.

"What do you think happened?" she asked after a brief pause, hands stiff at her side.

"It is hard to say, Ma'am," Walter admitted, "We can only assume that the enemy was a far greater concern than any of us anticipated."

"I assure you, I'll be having words with the Council and Her Majesty on _that,_" Integra said icily, "What a shit pile their rubbish idea has landed us in. I swear, Walter, if what I'm thinking has actually happened then I don't even…"

She trailed off with a murderous glare at the pinking clumps of clouds overhead, as if she were imagining old, decrepit faces in their place. Walter was silent. He had no doubt Integra would be carrying out some confrontations soon, even though he knew a miniscule part of her was still clinging to the hope that this was some elaborate scheme to secure a way back after missing the original plane. Walter was not so optimistic.

The conversation on the phone was too chaotic and frenzied, and both Pip and Seras seemed to have no idea what was occurring around them at two separate times. And then Alucard…from what he'd gathered after decades with the ancient creature, the punishment from the seal for disobedience was excruciating at the very least. He'd only seen Alucard writhe through the pain once, and that was when Arthur had ordered him to chop apart his own coffin. What happened over the phone was far more serious than any sort of ruse.

"They're here," Integra's cool voice suddenly said, dispersing Walter's thoughts. She was watching intently as a small black dot in the horizon began enclosing on them, swelling to full size in a matter of minutes.

Integra's posture stiffened even more as the jet landed smoothly on the concrete roof, whipping her blonde hair in wild directions with its wind turbines. She looked like she was holding herself from sprinting up to the aircraft and Walter half-thought about pulling her back slightly, when the door unlatched.

Pip and Seras stumbled out first, gripping onto each others hands like frightened children. The latter was caked in dried mud and scraps of dead leaves smeared down her entire front, while the top of the former's body was drenched maroon brown with blood. Alucard slinked out last, looking not as worse for wear as the other two, though more tired and irritated; large vibrant blood stains had bloomed over his chest and darkened parts of his red cravat.

Walter and Integra stared at the bedraggled appearances.

"Oh, no," he thought he heard his mistress mutter, but she was already walking briskly over to meet them.

He saw Alucard's and Pip's eyes flicker soundlessly toward her as she approached, but Seras's gaze remained staring aimlessly at the ground. Walter noted with alarm that her eyes were filmy and gray, the original baby blue of her irises now a sickly white.

Integra, who looked like her hope had just been shattered into thousands of pieces, could only stand there for a moment.

"Report," she finally croaked, gesturing in agitation when all she received was a confused blink from Pip and an exhausted look from Alucard, "I want a detailed, _play-by-play _of what the _bloody hell _happened." Seras jumped visibly at the angry demand, as if she hadn't even known Integra was standing there, and began stammering through another explanation that seemed even less coherent than the last one.

Walter shuffled away quickly before he could watch the disarray escalate further. The pilot was hopping down the stairs with his bag and sent a cheery smile at Walter when he saw him.

"'Morning, Mr. Dornez," he called out brightly, as if they'd bumped into each other at the supermarket, "Looks like the weather's shaping up nicely, doesn't it?"

Walter weakly returned the smile at him, nodding. He was one of their recent recruits, still sprightly and energetic, with a youthful smattering of freckles and dirty blonde hair.

"It seems to be so, Captain Blade," he said amicably.

The pilot grinned at him and deeply inhaled the crisp dawn air. His roaming eyes softened in sympathy when they fell upon Integra and his former passengers.

"Aw, tell the Director not to go so harshly at 'em, will ya, Mr. Dornez?" he said, "They were a mess when I landed there—didn't talk the whole ride back. Well, the girl and Cap'em Bernadotte said a few things, but the big guy was completely silent. Must've been a tiring trip, huh?"

Walter gave another more tight-lipped smile at the man; it continued to astonish him how so many of the younger recruits had such trouble understanding exactly what organization they worked for, or even what two of the 'passengers' on his plane had really been.

"Yes, well, it has been a full night," he replied, and before the pilot could draw him into a long conversation, quickly added, "You are dismissed for the rest of the day. Write up your standard report and then you may go home."

Blade nodded cheerfully, "Not a problem, sir. It's such a brilliant day, I think I'll take my little Frannie out for some kite-flying. Her mum's recently bought her this butterfly one, you see, a bit expensive, but Frannie's delighted—"

"How lovely that is, sir," Walter interjected gracefully, turning even as he spoke, "I hope you enjoy flying her kite with her. Please pardon me."

He strolled away before the pilot could say more and returned to Integra's side, where the interrogation did not seem to be going remarkably well.

"Wait, so it was the _castle _that caused all this?" she was reiterating impatiently, as Walter folded his hands behind his back.

"Not exactly…" Seras murmured, pulling at her uniform with her free hand, "Um…the castle sealed Master's powers for a while, and the target was using the tower…"

"So it was the tower that did this."

"U-um, no, she used this white light and we all ended up…"

"I thought you said the tower was used."

"Yes, but that was the main seal of Master's powers…right?"

Integra stared at her subordinates, as if she didn't know whether to gape or scream. Seras continued to flounder, backtracking and mixing up details. Walter shared a sympathetic cringe with Pip for her.

It was on Seras's frazzled, third rendition of what occurred that Alucard finally stepped up and clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her instantly. Every pair of eyes shot to the tall vampire, as Seras's shoulders drooped in barely concealed relief. Integra raised an extremely vexed and expectant brow at her pet.

Keeping his hand nearly wrapped around his fledgling's entire face, Alucard mimed a scribbling pencil with far more seriousness than the action should've warranted.

Integra gave him a look, but perhaps was still feeling slightly guilty for ripping into the seal with him earlier, because she eventually gave a curt nod.

"Let's go then," she said, already turning toward the door. Alucard released Seras and allowed Pip to lead his meek childe after her, leaving him and Walter to bring up the rear.

"You do realize she was only a Category C right?" Walter teased his old friend, trying to lighten the weight of mounting apprehension in the atmosphere.

A homicidal glare was his only reply.

* * *

Alucard finished his page long explanation with a clatter of the ink pen against Integra's desk, not even caring when she glared at him for rudeness. It was half past six in the morning now and he didn't quite care about anything at the moment, save for crawling into his coffin and sleeping for the next five hundred years.

But _no_, he had to stand there as his master read through what happened (give or take a few edited events on how he let his guard down), with Walter scanning the page from over her shoulder. Behind him, Seras and Pip peeked around his arms like anxious children. His fledgling in particular, was hovering closer and closer to his elbow, likely feeling guilty or some similar nonsense for her unhelpful babbling earlier.

Alucard resisted a tremendous yawn.

After a full minute, Integra let the paper fall, expression grim and pinched.

"You can't speak at all?" she asked.

He shook his head. Alucard had made multiple attempts toward speech while waiting for Seras and Pip to wake, each resulting in failure. He'd been seriously doubting his vocal chords were even physically there anymore, when the oh-so-lovely effects of the Hellsing seal put an end to that theory.

His master sighed, sending cursory glances toward Pip and Seras as well. The cerulean of her eyes was piercingly bright beneath her glasses. It was that same fiery mix of contemplation, wrath and calculation Alucard had come to associate with all of the Hellsing leaders over the years (though none matched her in brilliance).

"Walter, please contact Doctor Trevilian. I'm afraid he'll have to make an early morning house call," she requested, though her eyes were still trained on the three of them, "We need an assessment on the extent of physical damage the spell caused."

Walter bowed quietly in confirmation and exited, though not before sending them a half-worried, half-baffled look, which would've annoyed Alucard if he hadn't felt more like face-planting into the lining of his coffin.

"As for the three of you," his master continued coolly, if not in repulse as her eyes trailed over their clothes, "Go get cleaned up and eat something. Wait in the sitting room when you're done."

Alucard's shoulders twitched at the prospect of doing anything other than sleep. The effects of the spell, thrashing from the seal, and general irritation that was the rising sun was taking a bit of a toll on him and he was quickly becoming sick of everything and everyone. He already completed the mission and gave the report anyway, what the hell else did she want from him?

But Integra's gaze was expectant and Alucard had barely opened his mouth, before he got to realize all over again that he couldn't even complain. Not unless he wanted to spend five minutes scratching it down. And she probably wouldn't even let him use her paper.

In fact, he swore there was a hint of smugness in those blue eyes.

"You're dismissed, Alucard," Integra said, sliding his report into a folder, and added at the last second before he could sullenly slide through the floor, "Take Seras and Captain Bernadotte with you."

_God dammit. _

Alucard yanked his half-submerged shoes back onto flat surface, sending a mild glare at Integra which the woman didn't even blink at. He'd been expecting the impromptu babysitting to end once they'd returned, but it looked like nothing was going to go his way today.

"…Master?" Seras questioned, fidgeting uncontrollably. Pip continued staring in puzzlement at the whole scene, completely befuddled.

Alucard mentally sighed at the display of utter helplessness and turned toward the door. He grabbed Seras as he past her, earning another surprised yelp and a bemused Pip in tow.

* * *

Alucard broke apart their chain of hands as soon as they got to the head of the stairs. Unfortunately, he then had to degrade himself further by engaging in a game of charades with Pip over what Integra's orders had been. After losing his temper twice with the man, the French captain hurried off toward the barracks; Alucard wasn't entirely certain he'd understood the message, but was far beyond giving a damn.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily with one folded hand, he tugged an oddly quiet Seras down into the kitchen. The servants and maids avoided them like the plague, though it took a couple of growls and bared teeth to stop their staring. He would never understand the eternal fascination humans had for things that could eat them.

At least the soldiers they met loitering in the kitchen had the good sense to salute and retreat as soon as they entered (though he snarled at them anyway because their faces were _displeasing _him).

_Sit down, _he pulsed through the bond to his fledgling as they walked over to the table, but was unsure of how much of the thought actually made it through.

By the way Seras jolted when Alucard dropped her hand onto the back of a chair, probably none of it.

"Oh, sorry, Master," she murmured, pulling out the chair with a loud screech against the tiled floor and slumping into it. Her skin was bone pale and green-tinged beneath the fluorescent lights and the nausea twisting her face from the coming morning made her look listless and wilted.

Alucard scowled and strolled to the sleek fridge sitting in a far corner of the room. Without bothering to open it, he slipped his hand through the door, rummaging for a moment, before producing two blood bags.

Seras's head snapped up when he tossed one gently onto the table, letting it slide into her hands. An instance of raw, primal hunger flashed across her features as she realized what it was, but vanished before Alucard had the chance to properly appreciate it.

"No, thank you, Master," she sighed, pushing the bag away with her fingertips, "I'm not hungry."

_Well, that was bullshit. _Alucard glared threateningly at the petite draculina, which she couldn't see, and questioned when his fledgling started lying to his face, which he couldn't ask.

Frustrated and irritable, he stormed over to the table's edge and shoved the blood bag back toward her, making the red liquid slosh around inside. Seras gulped pathetically when it touched the back of her hand, but slid it gently away again.

Alucard stared, eyes narrowing into red slits. The little fool was really going to do this dance right now?

"I'm sorry, Master," Seras said firmly, sensing his anger in the air, "I can't drink. I don't want to lose who I am."

_Why not? _he wanted to demand, _You're blind and feeble and about to collapse._ _What's there left to lose? _

Alucard pushed the bag toward her again. She pushed it back. They childishly jockeyed the blood across the table at each other for several minutes, before Alucard got fed up.

Seras jumped violently when he slammed his fist down on the table and splintered the wood, but jutted out her chin in sheer stubbornness anyway. Her shoulders were slightly quivering, but it was largely from exhaustion and hunger than fear.

_What an agitating childe. _Alucard ran a hand through his hair and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Consequently, he completely missed the guilt-ridden frown that momentarily marred Seras's face, too busy contemplating the merits of simply cramming blood down her throat. How she hadn't starved to death months ago, he had no idea.

They had drifted into a tense silence for several minutes, before Seras's soft voice broke through it.

"Could…Could I have it heated, Master?"

Alucard immediately stared at her through the crack of his fingers.

"I-I'm not going to drink all of it," Seras quickly stammered in defense, "B-but I can get a little down if it's heated…"

He was heading toward the microwave with the bag before she finished the sentence, a grin beginning to worm onto his face. Alucard ripped open his own pack with the edge of his teeth, slurping it down in large cold gulps as he poured his fledgling's into a bowl. It was slightly reminiscent of heating a child's milk before bed, but as long as she drank, he would try not to fixate. Blood tasted better warm anyway.

He pried open the microwave door and slid the bowl in, feeling likely more complacent than he should have that he remembered what buttons Walter had told him to press. When the machine 'dinged,' he brought the bowl out and placed it in front of Seras, throwing in a spoon as a last-second thought.

Seras smiled weakly, "Thanks, Master."

She prodded the blood with her spoon, swirling it around, perhaps steeling herself, perhaps waiting for him to lose patience and leave. Alucard scoffed and crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the table. Like he was going anywhere.

Seras's shoulders drooped slightly as she realized his resolve. With great, unnecessary hesitation, she scooped up a dripping spoonful and shakily brought it to her lips.

Her ravenous instincts snapped awake as soon as it hit her mouth. Within a blink, she was chugging down the rest of the blood, the spoon having been flung somewhere across the room. Alucard grinned widely.

Not even seconds later, the bowl was dry as a bone. Seras was still licking the sides clean, practically chewing on the rim when she finally snapped out of it.

"Oh!" she squealed, dropping the bowl as if it were a piece of hot coal, letting it clack noisily against the table. A look of unadulterated horror crossed over her face—her white eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Alucard laughed silently and clapped, causing her to wheel at him.

"Master!" she cried in frustration, bunching her fists, like it was his fault she'd lost control. Alucard just smiled wryly, pleased. He'd had neither the energy nor the capability to nag at her like usual.

The heat of her anger evaporated surprisingly fast. One moment she was seething and horrified with herself and the next moment she was sighing in defeat and propping her chin on her palm.

"Happy now?" she asked, with less bitterness than he'd expected. Still smiling gleefully, he reached for Seras's hand; the connection felt a great deal stronger now that they'd both been sated.

_Very. _Seras huffed, "Well I'm glad somebody is." But a small smile pulled at her lips.

Alucard was proudly studying the carved up bowl like it was his childe's first kill.

_You can't tell me you don't feel better._

A small blush bloomed across her cheeks. "I do," she admitted, before quickly adding, "But I'm not going to start drinking it all the time."

_Really? You're going to continue starving yourself, despite knowing how it strengthens you?_

"It's the only way I can remain who I am."

Alucard pinched the bridge of his nose, his good cheer dissipating within a matter of seconds. Seras, who remained oblivious, stared curiously at their intertwined hands.

"Master, why is it I can only hear you when we're touching?" she questioned, changing the subject before another argument arose. Alucard also turned toward their hands, eyebrows raising slightly.

_We are closest through touch, _he explained simply, though he had no idea why she couldn't hear him the normal way anymore either. Part of him figured he should be more concerned about it.

"It seems a bit inconvenient though," she mumbled at his boots, "I'd much rather just hear your voice, Master."

He would've chuckled then if he could've.

_You can hear it in your head, can't you?_

Seras shook her head rapidly. "It's not the same," she said, and then very lowly, "Is this the only way we're going to be able to talk from now on?"

She moved her free hand up to a blind, pupil-less eye as she spoke, enveloping it in her palm. A sad frown was on her face as she blinked sightlessly into the darkness.

"Am I going to be blind forever?"

Alucard nearly resisted the urge to roll his own eyes, but then realized he had no reason to and did it anyway. He swore the longer she spent in undead life, the more human she became.

_Police girl, how long do you think you're going to live?_

Seras let her hand fall with a 'plop' and turned the dismal look at him.

"I don't know, maybe—"

_Forever. That's how long. Now, in the fathomless stretch of days and years and centuries to come, exactly how long do you expect this mere nuisance of a spell to last, hm? Do you think you'll still be blind on doomsday perhaps? Running into mangled telephone poles and stumbling over charred corpses?_

A giggle slipped from Seras, despite the macabre description.

"I suppose you're right, Master," she agreed, a small smile formed along her mouth.

Alucard's face softened a minuscule amount and he straightened.

_I'm always right. Now run along and get cleaned up. Integra wants us in the sitting room._

He dropped her hand promptly, severing the connection and quickly phased through the wall. The last thing he heard was a cry of frustration as she realized she would have to grope her own way down to the basement.

Alucard grinned. It wouldn't do to be too sentimental after all.

* * *

After a harrowing journey down to her room and an equally terrifying one back upstairs and through the hallway, Seras finally stumbled into the main sitting room, cursing her sire to the lowest hell. One moment he was comforting her and giving twisted pep talks and the next he was deserting her in the kitchen with nothing but the wall to guide her!

_Stupid master…_ She grumbled in her head, grateful that her mind was solely hers for the moment, and continued patting the wall.

To her relief, as she'd continued through the mansion, Seras had begun to notice the wall's little bumps and nicks, signifying the ending or beginning of each section of the house. The smell, amazingly, combined with her memory of everything were also an immense help, and she continued to inch her way in—the familiar scent of firewood and English tea reassuring her that it was the correct room.

And at least there didn't seem to be anyone here yet…

"Mignonette?"

Seras nearly hit the ceiling, somehow managing to trip over her own feet in the process. If it weren't for the quick hands that grabbed her shoulders, she would've ended in a face plant on the floor.

"Whoa, easy, Seras," came Pip's surprised voice, steadying her before pulling away, "It's just me."

Seras gasped, trying to calm a pounding heart that shouldn't even be beating.

"Good God, Captain, you gave me a fright!"

Likely guessing what she said, Pip sheepishly replied, "Je suis desolee, ma cherie. I didn't know you were there until I turned around."

Right. Of course. Seras sighed and waved away his apology.

Unfortunately, that left her in an awkward position, since she'd jumped somewhere far off from the wall after being startled. Tracing her way back to it in front of him did not sound terribly enticing.

"You need help to the couch, mignonette?" Pip suddenly asked, making her face flare up instantly at how knowing and amused he sounded.

But it was either accept his help or make a fool of herself once more. Seras sighed again and nodded, offering her palm.

His large hand linked with hers accommodatingly. It was calloused and warm, like any man's hand, and he had long, handsome fingers. His grip was strong, but not enough to be painful, and very steady…

Seras felt every drop of blood she'd ingested earlier swell into her face. Desperately, she tried to redirect her thoughts, all the while a furious litany of prayer played through her head that he wasn't looking at her.

_What the bloody hell is with you, Seras? Stop blushing like you're still in secondary! Think about something else! Like…Walter doing ballet, or Master with reindeer antlers. Or Sir Integra in a prom dress._

The last image nearly made her choke.

_O-Oh my God, that is just…well I suppose Master would like that._

She had to forcefully will the image away as it was sending physical shivers down her spine, not even noticing that they had stopped and Pip was staring at her.

"Uh…mignonette…?"

_I bet she would look lovely in a dress if she smiled. I can't even imagine her smiling—_

"Seras!"

The young vampiress jumped and turned to her side, blinking uselessly again.

"Um, yes sir?"

Pip released Seras's hand, taking away the warmth with him.

"We're here. Come on and sit."

For a moment, she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she heard Pip plop down, squeaking leather and the unmistakable sound of army boots on a cherry wood coffee table.

Whatever blush she'd managed to drive away returned with a vengeance.

"O-Oh, right, of course…" she sat down stiffly, the leather beneath her making an obscene sound that deepened the shade of scarlet engulfing her face, "I-I was just thinking of…um…nothing really…I mean I was thinking of something, but it was…"

_Shutupshutupshutup_

But Seras couldn't. She continued to blabber incoherently for several more seconds, before with great difficulty, she managed to button her mouth. It left a mortifying silence to ensue.

Seras fidgeted in her seat, suddenly paranoid about how ridiculous the gray shirt she'd haphazardly thrown on looked (it had a huge Tudor rose at the center) and felt for the tag several times to make sure she wasn't wearing it inside out. She was in the middle of wishing for a meteor to strike her when Pip suddenly muttered.

"Hey, they finished construction on the Walkie-Talkie—one of six new skyscrapers in London's financial area this year," he tutted in mild disapproval, "It really is bigger than better with Brits."

Seras turned an incredulous stare in Pip's general direction. There was no response for several seconds, before she suddenly heard the crinkling sound of a turning page. The scent of ink and worn paper drifted up her nose.

"Merde, there's like five pages just for the market, but half of one for entertainment?"

The Times. He was reading the Times. She had just made a mess of herself and he was reading the bloody Times.

Because he was bloody deaf. Right.

Seras collapsed against the couch with a groan. Pip, whose eyes were glued to a photo of the Duchess, didn't notice at all. Without any humiliation-induced paranoia to fuel her, a wave of exhaustion flooded over Seras. Despite the oddly shaded feeling of the room, it had to be around seven or eight by now and though the blood she'd drank had driven the nausea away, the dawn was swiftly sending her towards sleep.

She'd been floating in between dozing and wakefulness with Pip reading beside her, when a cool tension suddenly entered the atmosphere. Reluctant to expend the effort, Seras lifted her head sluggishly, despite seeing nothing but an expanse of blackness before her.

The nearly silent 'thunk' of heavy boots, along with Pip's startled flinch, had announced her master.

"Hey, Mr. Alucard," Pip eventually greeted, with an incredible casualness that most would gawk at. He smoothed down the paper he'd accidentally crumpled and said nothing more. There was no point after all.

Her master obviously didn't reply and she felt the shadowy edge of his coat brush her shins as he stopped in front of her. Seras sent a tired, slightly sloppy smile in what she hoped was his way.

"Hi, Master."

His cold hand settled against her shoulder.

…_your hair's a mess…_

"You're one to talk." She replied simply, too far gone to really get upset over the comment, or even the earlier abandonment.

As evidence of his own lethargy, Alucard didn't push it and let his hand drop. He shuffled over to a nearby armchair, half-collapsed into it and didn't move again. Pip made idle comments to himself about the sports section, which they both ignored.

Seras massaged her fingers across her temple, actually feeling the rays of the sun prickling across her consciousness like sedation needles. She really hoped this Doctor Trevilian or whoever Sir Integra had called would arrive soon, because she didn't feel like she was going to last much longer. …Really, it wouldn't hurt to rest her eyes for a while, would it?

_Just for a few minutes…_ She thought drowsily, laying her head down against the back of the couch. It was nowhere near the velvety silkiness of her coffin, but leather had never felt so soft and comfortable in the past. Before she knew it, the sweet cloud of sleep had descended gently upon her.

On the other side of the couch, Pip turned another page.

* * *

By the time Doctor Trevilian had hurried in and Integra had walked with him to the sitting room, she was met with a disheveled, but predictable sight.

Alucard was slumped limply to his left, dark wild hair obscuring his closed eyes, while Seras had curled up across part of the couch, her head hanging slightly over the armrest. On the right end, Pip was obliviously engrossed in a copy of the Times, even though Seras's feet were practically in his lap.

Doctor Trevilian made a small noise of half apology and half amusement.

"I'm sorry, Sir Integra. I tried to get here as quickly as I could."

Integra sighed and shook her head.

"Don't be, Doctor. I was hoping they'd be able to hold out for a few more hours, but it's not really a shock they couldn't." She had Walter draw the curtains in the room for a reason after all.

"For the moment, could you please examine Captain Bernadotte?" she continued, gesturing at her butler, who had followed behind them. Walter bowed and walked in, weaving expertly past Alucard's spindly legs.

The way he leaned down wasn't particularly sneaky and the hand that touched Pip's shoulder was gentle, but the mercenary almost flew out of his skin anyway.

Integra watched her doctor frown as Walter tried to calm the other man. Pip was giving the elderly servant a bewildered look, like he had just materialized from thin air, before suddenly swiveling his head back and forth between Seras and Alucard.

"When did they crash?" he was asking loudly, utterly surprised, as Walter pulled him to his feet.

"You said this happened only a few hours ago, Sir Integra?" Trevilian questioned.

She nodded.

Her companion made a bemused sound, though the frown did not disappear.

"Alright, I'll have a look."

She didn't like the ominous note to his voice, but couldn't reply, as Walter and Pip had walked up to them. Doctor Trevilian smiled faintly at the young captain, who was blinking at him in confusion, and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder.

Integra watched calmly as they ushered Pip out, steering him toward an empty guest room for privacy. She chewed on the end of a cigar, waiting until they'd disappeared down the hall, before walking over to her vampires.

"You're both going to ruin your backs on those," she muttered idly, hands in her pockets. Slack features and silence were her only replies. Not even the rhythmic breaths of slumber were present.

Integra sighed, feeling some minor guilt about forcing them up during the day right after the mission, and walked over to the cabinet for some old afghan blankets to assuage it. Even though she knew it was largely pointless for such cold-blooded creatures.

_Bloody vampires, _She thought grumpily, draping a white and blue striped one over Seras. The draculina shifted slightly, making a soft sleepy noise, and Integra froze, ready to do a marathon sprint out the door at the first sign of rising eyelids. But the girl eventually settled and automatically snuggled into the covering now over her.

Integra watched for several more cautious seconds before turning away.

Wrapping up Alucard was far less nerve-wracking. Although not in the true vampiric sleep achieved only within his coffin, he was still pretty much dead to the world once out. Integra tucked the blanket carefully over his shoulders, regarding his sleeping face with the same curiosity she's had for ten years now.

In slumber, his face was smooth and loose, unguarded and unmarred by harsh lines. Without the suffocating tinge of murder in his eyes, he looked almost normal, even human, or as close to one as Alucard could get.

Integra parted the hair hiding his face and tucked it behind his ear. She had always thought he was most bearable like this, quiet and calm, without that deep, insane voice echoing through her halls and dreams. Though now that it was gone, part of her wondered if she was going to miss it, if she was ever going to hear it again.

_Of course you will, _she told herself fiercely, _Of course you will. _

It was nothing but a spell and all spells could be broken. Feeling strangely annoyed that the thought had even strayed into her head, Integra fixed his askew cravat, smoothed the blanket and was about to stand when she saw it.

A tiny design-like image curling around the left side of Alucard's collarbone, around the base of his neck. Integra squinted, leaning in slightly and brushing aside the hair that had been previously concealing it.

"_What on Earth…?" _It was the profile of a rooster, elegantly composed from red and green strokes, with its proud head in the air.

Integra stared at her sleeping vampire. "Is that a _tattoo_?"

She couldn't even remember the last time Alucard left the mansion for anything other than a mission, when the hell did he go get a tattoo?

Integra whirled around at Seras—her first thought being that he must've dragged his fledgling out with him at some point—only to suddenly spot the same marking on her as well. Integra's eyes widened.

_What?_

She walked briskly over to the couch, adjusting her glasses to ascertain she was seeing correctly. It was even smaller than Alucard's, approximately the size of Integra's pinky nail, and was situated on the lower corner of Seras's right eyelid, nearing the end of her eyelashes. Another rooster. Almost invisible beneath the fringe of her bangs.

For a moment, Integra just stood there next to the coffee table, stunned.

Her mind was having trouble deciding what to stress over first. Whether Alucard had somehow found a loophole around her order to stay on grounds or that they had wasted it on of all things, matching rooster tattoos. And then there was the part of her wondering if they actually _were _tattoos and another part that just kept wondering why a _rooster_?

She was on the edge of rousing Seras and shoving Alucard awake for an explanation when Walter suddenly rushed back to the doorway.

"Sir Integra," he called, making her stiffen for a moment, before taking it in stride.

"Walter?" she turned around, about to ask him about the rooster images on her vampires when she saw his strange expression.

"What is it?"

"Sir Islands just called. He's initiating a Council meeting for the review of the mission. It's scheduled for ten this morning."

Integra's lip curled. Wartimes aside, the dreaded meetings with the Round Table were more duty than actual need and held only once per month. Undoubtedly, the conference was because of the potential 'weight' of the mission.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes mentally, and waved her hand, "Is that all?"

Walter bowed. "Additionally, an interesting item has appeared during the Captain's examination that Doctor Trevilian wishes to discuss with you."

Her eyes widened. "Of course," she said, walking over with much more urgency than before. She threw one last glance over her shoulder at her unconscious pets, before heading with her butler down the hall.

"By the way, Walter, could you please move them back to the basement? I've something to say to them come evening."

* * *

A/n: The plot marches on. Btw, the Walkie-Talkie Pip was reading about is a nickname for 20 Fenchurch Street, a skyscraper in London. It's still in construction and actually suppose to be completed in 2014 but meh...Fanfiction authors do what they want! XD

Hope you enjoyed and please R&R!


	7. Chapter 7

A/n: I was planning on a double-chapter update, but I wanted to get this up to answer some questions. A lot of you guys were really perceptive in your reviews though, so you probably guessed half of it already XD

And to **TheCypher48**, I think this chapter might answer your question about the plot. Hopefully it's becoming clearer what's happening, but feel free to ask if there's confusion!

Same thing to anyone who's a little puzzled, don't hesitate to ask! :D

And as usual, please review and tell me what you think. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The Witch House (7)**

* * *

"WHAT!" The thin figure swiped a lamp off his desk, it's chain quivering in his grip, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU COULDN'T FIND IT?"

He roared, chucking the lamp at the threshold where the shorter man cowered. It smashed into pieces against the doorframe, making his stubby arms fly up to shield his head.

"I-I'm sorry, Monsieur," he whimpered, sweat flooding his beefy face, "B-but we searched the entire area and it wasn't there—"

"Then look harder!" the tall man snarled, banging his fist against shiny birch wood, "You will find it, even if you have to rummage through the entrails of the squirrels."

The subordinate flinched backwards. His hands were growing so slick with sweat damp spots were appearing over his gloves and fat rivulets oozed down his round chin.

"M-Monsieur," he began, then regretted his voice immediately, when frigid green eyes fixed upon him, "W-With the utmost, _u-utmost_, respect, why is this so important?"

The look he received nearly made him keel over.

"What did you say?" a suddenly hushed voice hissed, a sound like serpents in the grass. He shook his head rapidly, mouth caving in on itself, but a bony hand waved his squealing apologies away.

"Non, non, petit commandant, tell me what you mean. Now."

The man swallowed convulsively, struggling past crippling fear for words.

"I-I m-mean the English h-have already d-destroyed La Maison and s-she is dead…W-Why should we worry about a tiny pin—"

A sharp laugh cut him off—black and cold—the rest of his words died in his throat.

"Why should we worry?" the thin man repeated, shaking his head derisively, "You truly don't know what this is, do you?" A long, skeletal hand tapped the edge of a jeweled rooster's crown, pinned primly upon the lapel of his suit.

"Sometimes, I forget how feeble-minded you are, petit commandant," he mused flippantly, "Just think of what has happened between her and us. All the money, the resources, the energy and flesh. Just to feed her to a bigger dog? Non, _she_ does not die so easily. Not while that pin is out there."

His subordinate was rapidly paling, a greenish tinge along his face.

"B-but we found her head. They killed her…"

"They did not," he replied simply, brushing a finger down the rooster's studded surface, "She shall exist as long as it does. It is the only remaining connection between us and her. Tu me comprends? That tiny pin is the end of everything."

The realization sunk in with a nauseating look of fear and a thick, oily handkerchief came out, dabbing futilely at a sagging brow.

"W-what if they found it?"

"It's possible. We are attending one of the Round Table meetings to find out," he replied, letting his arm drop and clasping his hands behind him, "Vampires are known to be attracted to shiny objects after all."

"Vampires…" the man whispered, shuddering and cold at the mere sound, "Like her, you mean? Dieu, how do the English even sleep at night knowing—"

"Non."

"P-Pardone?"

"She isn't," he smiled coldly at the confused look, "Tell me, petit commandant, what do you know of Japan?"

* * *

When Integra walked into the guest room, Doctor Trevilian was already gathering his supplies back into his bag.

"Sir Integra," he greeted respectfully, "I sent him back to the barracks. Boy looked tired, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, Doctor," she replied amicably, coming to stand across from the man, before going straight to the point, "What did you find?"

"Aside from a bit of earwax, essentially nothing," Trevilian shook his head in bafflement, "His ears were entirely undamaged, but it's undeniable that he is now profoundly deaf."

Integra nodded, elegant eyebrows furrowing grimly, "What do you propose then?"

"I took the liberty of placing an order for a hearing aid. Normally, I would prefer these sort of things to be custom built, but given these…extraordinary circumstances I…"

"It's not a concern," Integra dismissed, "This is only temporary. Have them direct all expenses to the Hellsing Organization."

The doctor smiled lightly. "Of course, Sir Integra. Aside from the hearing aid, I also advise looking a bit into sign language and lip-reading. They help along communication by a great deal."

Integra nodded, already having several names in mind; some of the older Hellsing soldiers had been required to learn lip-reading while serving in the military.

"I suppose we can assume these results are not unique," she commented blandly.

Trevilian shifted, a slightly uncomfortable look flashed through his eyes.

"I am…not an expert on vampires, but I suppose if the physiological functions remain relatively the same, then my guess is yes."

_It's just a spell_, Integra reminded herself, resisting the urge to massage her temples.

"Thank you, Doctor Trevilian. I have no desire to keep you waiting until evening, so there is no need for you to examine Alucard or Seras. Walter can escort you out as usual."

The man nodded, picking up his bag with faint relief.

"Not at all, Sir Integra, it's only my duty," he took a step toward the door, before suddenly stopping, "Oh, I can't believe I nearly forgot. There was this strange image along the wall of his left ear canal. I'm not sure if it was a birthmark or if it's relevant but I sketched it down."

Integra's eyebrows arched as the man picked up a piece of paper from the table. They nearly disappeared into her hairline when she saw the picture.

Trevilian scratched his head, puzzled, "I don't know if I even saw it correctly but it looks a little like a rooster doesn't it?"

Integra wheeled on him. "You said you saw this in his ear canal?"

The doctor blinked at the woman, surprised by the urgency in her tone. "Y-Yes, ma'am, is there something wrong?"

But Integra was no longer paying attention. The sketch looked identical to the marks she saw on Alucard and Seras, throwing her tattoo theory promptly out the window.

"On the throat for the mute," she muttered, eyes widening, "The eye for the blind and the ear for the deaf."

She spun toward an unnerved Doctor Trevilian, nearly yelling in his face, "They're seals for the spell!"

"Sir Integra!" Both Integra and Trevilian jumped, whirling around to stare at a frazzled Walter at the doorway. Neither of them had noticed when he'd left the room.

"Sir Integra, I apologize for the interruption, but I just received news that the meeting has been rescheduled."

Integra almost snorted at how incredibly unimportant she found the information. But seeing as Walter looked a bit distraught, she humored him.

"Well, when is it then?"

"Somewhere in the next forty minutes, ma'am."

"WHAT?" Integra shrieked, gaping at Walter like she thought he was joking, "What the bloody hell is so pressing?"

"Lord Anguis will be attending."

"Who's Lord Anguis?"

"The French official who proposed this mission."

Integra's eyes immediately narrowed into cold slits. "Oh, is he? Well, at least this won't be a complete waste of time then. Now I won't have to hunt them down separately."

She exited the room at a brisk pace, pausing only to send Trevilian an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm afraid I will need Walter for the remaining time. If you would head downstairs, I'm sure one of the maids can see you out." The Hellsing woman went down the hall without another word, Walter at her heels, leaving the bewildered doctor behind.

"Walter, I'm going to need the usual files, along with that folder containing Alucard's report."

"Of course, ma'am."

"And I also need you to keep an eye for anything related to roosters."

To her butler's credit, he didn't even break stride. "…Roosters, Sir Integra?"

"The spell's seals, Walter. Images of roosters were found on the three of them," she explained shortly, "I want every last piece of information you can gather on it. Particularly items from witchcraft or alchemy. We'll likely have to search through the old journals as well."

"Yes, Sir Integra," Walter replied amiably, unfazed at all by the sudden new discovery, "Shall I still have Alucard and Miss Victoria move back to the basement?"

Integra shook her head. "Forget it. I need to talk to them tonight anyway. Just lock the doors and tell the servants to stay away."

Walter nodded again and they walked the rest of the way to the office in silence. Integra was mentally listing all the negative consequences that had come from this new alliance. She would make them pay dearly for the shit they had caused her organization and nothing was going to be left out.

* * *

Due to the efficiency of Walter and a new driver that was eager to showcase his ability to navigate London's streets, they arrived at the The Langham hotel (where the meeting was scheduled for) with almost fifteen minutes to spare.

"You think the President was coming with all this pomp," Integra mused, scowling at the silken drapery and large, crystalline chandeliers that hung overhead. "Why have I never heard of this official?"

"Apparently, no one really has," Walter replied, following behind her with hands folded neatly behind his back, "All we know is that his family is part of the old French aristocracy, which has had strong influential ties to the government for several centuries now."

Integra smirked sardonically, "Hm, so much for democracy then."

"Indeed, ma'am."

They continued down the dimly lit corridor, every so often passing marble pedestals decorated with mammoth-sized chrysanthemums and roses, or some obscure statue that bordered on the lewd. Large windows had their curtains tied back by golden sashes, marking their way with long white rectangles of light and a birds eye view of the bustling streets.

Money well spent as always, Integra thought sarcastically, as they passed by an obscene brass statue of two angels. She was unspeakably glad Walter knew the way to the conference room, or else they would've likely wandered these gaudy hallways for hours.

As it would have it, he expertly directed them through the labyrinthine maze of flowers and statues, arriving swiftly at a pair of large oak doors.

An expansive, sleek room greeted them as Walter pulled open the door, with a oblong table of dark mahogany at the center. High-back chairs with velvet cushions were placed in neat rows on both sides, and elaborately arranged dinnerware was in front of each one. A chandelier the size of a small house hung like a monstrous disco ball over the whole affair.

Integra took two steps into the room, and felt much like she was walking into Hell.

"Sir Integra," a strict, cool voice said. Sir Islands's flat and dour face emerged from behind the blazing reflective light of the chandelier. He nodded in greeting at Walter, before appraising Integra with a faintly exasperated look.

"Really, you didn't think to wear something more…appropriate at least this once?" he asked, eyeing her mannish suit and tie.

Integra raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't aware this meeting had changed into a social gathering. I would have gladly declined and saved you the embarrassment of my "inappropriate" manner of dress if that were the case."

Sir Islands scowled, which Integra returned with a stubborn glare. The match only lasted for a few seconds however, before Sir Islands sighed.

"The whole point of this is to make a good impression, Integra," he said, "Your clothes aside, you would do well to not take such a tone with Lord Anguis."

"Oh, am I to grovel on my knees before him for seeing my agents as assassins-for-hire?" she snapped, unable to hide the growing fury in her voice, "I thought you told me you would discuss this with the other members, Sir Islands."

The leader of the Round Table frowned. "I did. Several of them found the whole affair rather reasonable. They are only asking for assistance occasionally, with very simple low-level assignments. Something I'm sure your "agent" will find all too easy."

Integra's temper began to disintegrate. "Goddamn snakes…"

"I beg your pardon?"

Flashes of Pip jumping beneath Walter's hand came across her mind, Seras and her white, pupil-less eyes. Alucard…

"I said they're goddamn snakes!" she said, startling Walter and making Sir Islands blink in surprise, "They sent us in there with poor information, resources or ways of communicating, and expect to be able dismiss it as low-level?"

Walter pulled anxiously at her sleeve, but was ignored.

"They've had the same vampire problem for years," Sir Islands snapped, scanning the room for a moment to ensure it was still empty, "I saw the file. They gave you a detailed report on the location and habits of the vampire. There was even a description of what she looked like, which I can imagine was extremely difficult to obtain, what else could you possibly—"

"How about the fact that she was a witch?" Integra snarled, calm effectively lost, "Or that she knew how to make seals?"

Walter was now actively trying to calm her. "Sir Integra, please…" Integra held up a hand to silence him, eyes narrowed upon a shocked Sir Islands.

"I sincerely hope the people of London are versed in supernatural combat, Sir Islands, because as of last night, no one will be coming to save them."

* * *

After several minutes of explanation from an anxious Walter, Sir Islands sat back in his chair with an impassive look on his face.

"And your vampire had no way of dealing with her at all?"

Walter cringed and was about to speak again, when Integra interrupted him.

"Seeing as he blew off her head without much effort, I think he dealt with her fine," she stared coldly at Islands from where Walter had ushered her into a seat at the head of the table, "But she should never have been labeled a Category C. The operation was poorly led and those reports were all from crippled or traumatized witnesses."

"It is their country. Both the President of France and Her Majesty insisted on letting them conduct their own investigation," Sir Islands replied, meeting her gaze, "Our hands were just as tied as yours, Sir Integra."

Integra scoffed bitterly. "Of course, Director. As I recall, the Convention was just _repulsed_ by the mere thought of this proposition."

Walter nudged her foot gently in warning beneath the table, but was ignored again. Surprisingly however, Sir Islands simply sighed.

"It cannot be helped," he said, iron jaw loosening in the first sign of weariness, "For now, I suggest you keep these weaknesses to yourself until there's a firm grasp on the situation. Am I to assume you haven't lost any control over your creature?"

"No," Integra replied curtly, though made a mental note to recheck the seals once she returned.

"Good. As for France, you'll have plenty of opportunity to negotiate relations today. We'll be here for quite a while." He gestured explanatorily at the silverware and plates. Integra glared at her wine glass like it was a particularly disgusting rat.

"How long?"

"The whole day."

"It is a request from Her Majesty, Integra," Sir Islands added tranquilly, at the woman's incredulous expression.

"Even so," she snapped, "I don't have time to listen to some French fool prattle all day." In honesty, she'd planned to simply release her anger on the lot of them and depart, never to hear another word about France for as long as she was able.

"We all have very little time, Sir Integra," Islands said, tone steely, "And I don't think it is necessary to tell you to treat him with respect. Perhaps he did mishandle the operation of this mission, but he is still a high-ranked official in France and he did travel all this way."

_I'm sure those two hours in first-class were just grueling for him_, Integra thought venomously. The doors opened again however, before she could voice another protest and the rest of the council members filed in—laughing and chattering like they were about to have a jolly old time.

Sir Islands sent Integra a pointed look and she gritted her teeth, having no choice but to resign herself to her fate.

* * *

They had been waiting for more than an hour by the time Lord Anguis arrived.

Integra rubbed her temples, wishing desperately for a cigar. Save for Sir Penwood, who had given her a friendly wave and she'd shared a few pleasantries with, the rest of the members had sent her cursory nods before settling into their seats. A rising gaggle of noise surrounded the table as the old men chattered with each other, exchanging pieces of gossip on Lord Anguis as if teenage girls about to meet a pop idol. It was disgusting and embarrassing and Integra had grown more sick of being in the room with each passing second.

Her only solace was that Walter had been productive, smoothly compiling information about the rooster seal on his phone, while Integra's eyes partially glazed over from staring too long at the chandelier. She had been in the middle of contemplating how exactly a single strand of cable could hold an object of such obscene mass when the doors suddenly clicked open.

The members sprang up with surprising speed, turning eagerly to face the entrance, as Integra rose at a far more reluctant pace. At the threshold was a spindly, dark-haired man with a pointed beard and harsh twin lines for a mustache. A considerably shorter and stockier man stood behind, flitting around the room with nervous, fearful eyes.

"Bonjour à tous," the former said smoothly, stepping inside the room, regarding the faces with a cool air.

The analytical part of Integra automatically noted down the man's features, from the ends of his wing-tipped shoes to the supercilious angle of his slicked head. A jagged feeling of dislike began forming within the pit of her stomach almost instantly.

Sir Islands stood, walking over to shake hands with the man.

"Lord Anguis, I'm presuming. I am Sir Hugh Islands of the Round Table Council," he introduced, then with a hint of irritation, "It's a great pleasure, but we were expecting you a while ago."

Anguis smiled unapologetically, "Yes, yes, do forgive us. Whilst my companion and I were admiring the wonders of your marvelous city, we simply lost track of time. Oh, pardone moi, this is Commandant Jean Petit." He waved an uninterested hand at the man behind him, who bowed his head slightly and muttered a quiet 'bonjour.'

"Do not worry about lack of seating, Sir Islands, as Commandant Petit will not be joining us," he turned to the man, barking a clipped, "Va-t-en."

The man scurried out gratefully and Integra nearly rolled her eyes as Sir Islands took the moment when Anguis's back was turned to motion her over.

"Before we begin, Lord Anguis, I would like to introduce Sir Integra Hellsing, Director of the Hellsing Organization." Integra could barely stop her lip from curling at the condescendingly surprised look shot at her.

"My, this is a most pleasant surprise," Anguis hissed, moving in far too close, "I wasn't aware such a _complex_ organization was led by a lovely mademoiselle such as yourself."

Integra stared back at him; up close, she noticed his eyes were a piercing light green, with the narrow pupils of a snake.

"Sir Hellsing, if you please," she said, and smirked caustically, "And I wasn't aware your people were capable of stranding my agents in the middle of a swamp for the night, but I suppose we both expected differently."

Sir Islands's glare was murderous, but Integra looked blithely away. She hadn't come with the intention of forming any so-called relations and she was already beginning to suspect Anguis hadn't either. As if to prove her right, the man's smile remained blank and icy.

"It seems we have plenty to discuss," he said eventually, gesturing toward the table.

Integra returned to her seat without a word, ignoring the mixed looks of shock and outrage on the other members' faces. Walter was regarding Anguis disdainfully as both he and Sir Islands took their seats.

_I don't know what you want, _Integra thought darkly, _But I'll have you think twice before messing with what's mine._

* * *

Pip yawned, stretching out long limbs on the rec room's couch, as he flipped dully through the television channels. It was late noon now, though it had been only twenty minutes since he'd dragged himself out of bed, and there was little else to do but waste away in front of the box.

_Why fucking bother? _a part of him thought cynically, the one that was feeling sorry for himself, _You can't hear it anyway._

The mercenary captain groaned and slumped further into the cushions. It'd been nice to pretend for a few minutes that he was just watching the TV on mute, before his subconscious got in the way again.

Pip stared abjectly at an old documentary, wondering what it was about (pyramids? aliens?) before changing the channel a few times without really looking, eventually landing on some trash reality show. A flamboyant host was babbling enthusiastically from a pink tulip microphone, while three girls in threadbare bikinis stood in giant pie platters, smiling demonically at the audience. Pip paused for a long contemplative moment, regarding the bulging cleavages. When the whip cream appeared, he tossed the remote on the table and got comfortable.

He was in the middle of trying to decipher whether the brunette's breasts were real or not through her facial expressions, when something landed with a smack against his chest, nearly making him fall off the couch. Fumbling and cursing, Pip sat up with a glare, only to be met with the amused expression of his lieutenant.

"What the hell, Silford?" he barked, swinging his legs down to the floor, "I already said I'd buy another damn flamethrower you bastard, why the hell are you throwing things at me?"

Silford just rolled his eyes and pointed at the box in Pip's lap. Since the Wild Geese had taken their captain's sudden disability in remarkable stride, he also slipped out a notepad and pen from his pocket.

_It's a hearing aid, Captain. Just got sent here for you by Doc Trevilian._

"Hearing aid?" Pip repeated, blinking down at the medium sized package, "You mean like for geezers?"

_Just open it, sir._

Shrugging, Pip lifted up the cardboard flaps, unraveling what had to be at least six layers of bubble wrap and foam padding, before reaching a pair of small crescent-shaped devices. "What the hell?" he breathed, picking one up with two fingers.

Silford sat down next to him, scribbling eagerly in his pad. _Try it out, Captain. See if it works._

"Yeah, but how do I do that?" Pip muttered, awkwardly flipping it around, only to have his lieutenant practically shove the instruction manual in his face. After a few minutes of skimming, he managed to get the aids powered on and hooked over his ears.

"Mon Dieu, this is actually working," he murmured in awe, as he twisted the knobs of the adjuster. At first there was more background noise than anything, but as Pip continued tuning the device, bits and pieces of the television began filtering in.

"I can fucking hear it, Lieutenant," he said again, vaguely giddy, as a catfight broke out between the brunette and the blonde on screen. When the host pushed them apart dramatically and spouted a few cliched lines of wisdom that were crystal clear, Pip lost it.

"I can fucking hear it!" he grabbed Silford by the collar, grin threatening to split his face, "Here, say something!"

The older man grinned knowingly back. "Well, me and your mom—"

Pip punched him in the shoulder.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," Silford said, wincing slightly as he rubbed his shoulder, "'Was just makin' sure you could actually hear me. You can get carried away sometimes, Cap'em."

Pip glared in irritation for a moment, but was too ecstatic to stay angry. "Next time it won't be your shoulder," he warned, turning back to the TV, though the threat was partially lost with his smile. The crisp, slobbery sound of the blonde blubbering into a tissue made part of him want to jump joyfully through the ceiling. It was only the suave, more image-minded side (what he liked to call his professional side) that saved him from that.

"Want to watch the game?" he asked instead, picking up the remote.

Silford shrugged, a wry smile on as he leaned back. "Sure."

They flipped back to the sports channel, only to find a breaking news coverage splashed across the screen. The anchorwoman was announcing the possible arrival of a high-ranking French bureaucrat at the Langham Hotel, making Silford look at him.

"Who's Lord Aquine, Cap'em?"

Pip shrugged, "How would I know? I lived there till I was sixteen and then bolted. It's political shit anyway."

He was about to change channels again, when a fuzzy photograph of a tall, snakey man in the Elysee Palace suddenly popped up. Pip snorted at the large, grossly expensive looking pin on his lapel, "You sure his name isn't Lord Queen instead?"

Silford sent him an odd look, "It's a rooster."

"Yeah, and it has more diamonds than the women put together." Though it did look vaguely familiar for some reason…

His lieutenant was shaking his head in disbelief. "Christ, you really don't know anything about your country, do you Cap'em? Rooster's France's national bird."

Pip stared at him. "If you're trying to impress me right now, Lieutenant, I'm afraid you—"

Then it hit him.

"HOLY SHIT!" Pip spun back to the screen with a dinner plate eye, scaring the life out of Silford.

"Sir?! What's wrong?" But Pip was already off the couch and tearing down the hall.

* * *

The sun had bled a deep scarlet across the horizon when Seras peeled open her murky eyes. _Ugh, I fell asleep after all, _she thought groggily, gingerly sitting up from her twisted position on the couch, _Sir Integra's going to be angry._

Thinking it was better to apologize sooner than later, Seras staggered upright, only to trip over the blanket caught around her legs. With a shriek, and furious wind-milling arms that saved her from a face-plant, she fell hard on her butt.

"Bloody hell," Seras muttered, rubbing her sore rear, "What a great week so far…" She was about to rise when a cold hand grabbed her forearm.

_Your voice remains unfailingly shrill, police girl, _Alucard grumbled, lifting herbodily to her feet.

Seras blushed slightly. "I'm sorry, Master. Did I wake you?"

_No, _Alucard sent a faintly confused look at the armchair and blanket he had awoken tangled up in, _It's not possible to sleep well outside a coffin._

Seras mentally disagreed, having missed her bed since day one, though it explained why she felt sluggish instead of the usual rejuvenated feeling.

"We should go see if Sir Integra still needs us. She's probably angry," Seras reminded him, afraid he was going to tumble into his coffin for another three hours and get into even more trouble.

As it would have it, Alucard was actually about to sink into the sweet, dank darkness of the basement, when the matter graced his thoughts again. _Whatever it was, it likely wasn't important, _he commented disinterestedly, even as he stretched careful tendrils across the mind link, attempting to gauge his master's mood (and whether he needed to push Seras into the office and make a run for it).

His fledgling frowned, about to reprimand her sire on responsibility, when a cool rush of surprise flooded their bond. "Master?" she asked, raising her sightless eyes.

_She's not here, _Alucard stared at the doors with slight bewilderment.

"Huh?" Seras looked nervous, flashes of Integra being assaulted and kidnapped while they slept on obliviously ran through her mind, "Did something happen to her?"

Alucard didn't answer, calmly trying to pinpoint Integra's location, fueled with more curiosity than actual worry. If anything serious had happened to his master, he would've already known.

_The Langham, _he grinned at the droning atmosphere he was sensing when he fixed on her, _In a meeting._

And quite an extravagant one too. He could hear the echoing clink of wine glasses and silverware.

"Wow, I use to dream of spending a week at the Langham," Seras marveled, though after a moment blinked in confusion, "Why would she be having a meeting there?"

Alucard snorted. Trust his fledgling to think about such insignificant details. The way he saw it, Integra was unharmed and he was still tired, so the whole thing was a perfect excuse for some decent sleep.

_Let's go, _he said, tugging Seras forward by the wrist.

"G-Go?" she parroted, shuffling quickly to match his long strides so he wasn't dragging her, "Where are we going?"

_Downstairs, _was the simple reply, _It's hard to sleep up here._

Seras made a face. If it was going to be one of those rare nights without missions she'd rather not waste any of it unconscious.

_Either sleep or drink, police girl. Your choice._

"On second thought, it wouldn't hurt to catch a few hours before rising again." Alucard grinned at her rapid decision. Sooner or later, she'd have to feed again, but for now he pulled her along.

Seras followed her sire through the hallway, feeling strangely comforted by the large icy hand over hers. A corner of her mind feared he was going to guide her into a wall just for kicks, but it beat clinging to the paneling by so much she hardly cared.

To her pleasant surprise though, Alucard was relatively careful as they descended the stairs. They were nearing the kitchen that led down to the basement when loud rummaging and swearing was heard from the laundry room.

Simultaneously, both of them turned to glance in, but only Alucard stared blankly. Seras tilted her head at the familiar French accent.

"Pip?"

The mercenary spun around with blurring speed, nearly dropping a pair of trousers he had bundled in his hands. He was frozen like a deer caught in headlights, before his brain interpreted who the figures standing in the shadows were.

"Oh, it's you guys," he breathed, slumping, "God, would it kill you to make some sound when you're walking?"

An astonished look crossed Seras's face, "You can hear me?"

Pip's face split into a momentary grin at mention of his reacquired ability.

"Yeah, the doc got me a hearing aid," he gestured proudly at his mechanized ears, though the only reaction he got was an unimpressed glance from Alucard.

Seras smiled kindly, "That's great, Captain. What were you doing in here anyway?"

"Just looking for something," Pip held out a closed fist, "I found it in the wreck."

He opened his palm.

Seras heard her master snort. _What is that? An insect?_


	8. Chapter 8

A/n: W-Wow…has it already been two months since my last update? *bows head deeply in apology*

I'm so very sorry for the delay you guys! I suffered a massive writer's block after the latest chapter and then kind of drifted to other things for a while. But now I'm back and I think I've gotten a handle on how I want to tell this story again, so I hope my readers are still interested as well! :D

Though I struggled a bit with this chapter, again because of horrible writer's block, I really hope you enjoy it! Any comments or constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated too!

* * *

**The Witch House (8)**

* * *

"A BUG?!" Seras screeched, flailing ten feet backwards.

"What?" Pip blinked incredulously at her, "No! It's a rooster." He shifted it to give them a better look, completely forgetting that Seras couldn't have seen it anyway. Alucard's eyes, however, dilated at the bright gleam as it inadvertently caught the light.

"See? How does it look like…" Pip trailed off with a croak, when Alucard suddenly sauntered right up to him, wearing a wide, slightly dazed grin.

"Uh…?!"

"Master?" Seras called, inching carefully back to his side, "What is it?" There wasn't a reply, so with a burst of courage, she reached for his arm. A single thought broadcasted through the second they touched.

_SHINY. _

Seras sighed, breaking contact before her master's psychosis made her brain explode.

"You said it was a rooster?" she asked, changing the subject.

Pip continued giving Alucard uneasy glances, but nodded. "Yeah, well, it's shaped like one." He quickly relayed his discovery at the wreck, along with the photograph he saw and the arrival of Anguis at the Langham.

Seras shrugged, "Okay, so that's why Sir Integra is probably at the Langham for. I don't see how it suddenly makes this thing important. If he's the head of this whole bloody whatever, couldn't they have accidentally dropped it while investigating the castle?"

Pip scoffed, "They couldn't even stay in the woods long enough to pick us up."

"Those were just the pilots," Seras snapped, "You can't generalize that to the whole team. And even if it were some fancy government pin, what are you so excited about? Is it suppose to mean something?"

_It means, police girl, that we have been lied to._

Seras snapped her head upward, where Alucard was still gazing lovingly at Pip's hand.

"What do you mean, Master?" she asked, confused, eliciting a strange look from the captain.

Alucard just smiled and plucked the pin from a startled Pip's fingers.

_My master said the reports were all from witnesses—confused, unreliable humans, whose fear twisted everything they saw. Supposedly, the officials did not even tread on the land._

Seras's eyes widened as understanding dawned on her. "What? But…but why would they lie about never being there?"

The No-Life King spared his fledgling an amused crimson eye. _Why do humans ever lie?_

Seras bit her lip. The obvious answer was something extremely important was hidden there, enough to be willing to risk an international crisis over. Yet the vampires at the house had seemed wholly wild to her, and it was the French government that had requested Hellsing to eliminate them in the first place.

"Er," Pip suddenly said, officially lost again, "Did something just happen?"

Seras jumped, having forgotten he was there again, and felt the blush rise to her cheeks. "O-Oh, sorry, Captain!"

Alucard grinned coldly, as Seras repeated everything to Pip. He grazed long thin fingers over the pin's side, icy energy slithering from it up his hands, dry and clammy like a rotten bone. It was the heady feeling of dark magic, of something ancient and primal and full of hatred.

_Is it too much to hope you'll regenerate? _He had asked that decayed witch. Alucard's grin widened.

"Mon Dieu," Pip was shaking his head in disbelief, "This is what is wrong with France in the first place. Too many snakes in the government."

"We need to tell Sir Integra," Seras insisted, "Maybe she can get an explanation for all this."

"An explanation?" Pip gaped, "Are you kidding? We're blind, deaf and mute and you just want an explanation?"

"Well, we can't go interrogate this guy on our own! He's an elite government official with the press on his heels and two of us are technically dead!"

"So what, you want to handle it the _official _way? All you're getting out of that is some shitty excuse and a put-on apology."

"There's no other way to do it! It's not like we've genuine proof what happened to us has anything to do with this guy."

"Why else would he lie about the investigation if he had nothing to do with it?! Mon Dieu, mignonette, you're kind of naïve, you know that? Look, I'm not saying we need to interrogate him. But how do you expect to get the truth from an 'official explanation?'"

"I don't know, Pip, but it's not our place!"

Pip rolled his eye, crossing his arms and Seras's cheeks puffed slightly in irritation, glare misdirected at his chin. Alucard touched her left shoulder, an amused tinge to his tone.

_As entertaining as_ _your unresolved sexual tension is, there are easier ways of obtaining answers._

Seras blushed, "Wh-What?! What are you talking about, Master?"

Alucard's teeth glimmered as he smiled, red eyes curving into leering crescents.

* * *

_How exactly is this easier? _ Seras thought semi-hysterically, as she listened to the distant wail of patrol sirens.

"Turn off your headlights," she hissed at Pip in the driver's seat next to her, skin crawling at the prospect of being caught.

"If I turn them off here, we might run into a tree," he hissed back, but obediently shut them off for a few moments, "What are you so nervous about anyway? I doubt the police even know about this route."

_Why is _this _what you're freaking out over? _Was what Seras could pick up in his tone. She sympathized. In the back seat, her master was stretched out like a sated cat, nonchalantly polishing his guns and making the sweat run cold down both their necks.

"Just keep it on low beam," she replied and sunk further in her seat, wondering how it had gotten to this point in the first place.

Due to some deranged work of logic on her master's part, he'd concluded both their ideas summarized in the end as useless inaction and that it would be so much simpler if he just went to the Langham and sucked the information out of a jugular or two. Needless to say, Seras's undead heart fell somewhere into her shoes and Pip paled to the point of near translucency.

They'd spent the next few minutes shamelessly begging Alucard to reconsider. In hindsight, it was almost funny that they'd even bothered; once her master made up his mind, everything was futile. The political backlash did little to move a man whose version of politics revolved around impaling anyone who gave him sass on ten feet pikes. And he'd already been caught by the press (and hastily covered up) so many times that the thought didn't even register as a big deal anymore.

Only her desperate question about how he was to get there when prohibited from leaving grounds gave him pause. And that was for a total of ten seconds before he just decided they'd be coming with him, since it wasn't technically 'leaving' if someone was taking him.

Seras didn't need her eyes to feel Pip's death glare on her.

In a last ditch attempt, she tried appealing to that single microscopic shred of sympathy he possessed and blurted, "If you drink all his blood you'll kill him!"

His reply was a shrug, _I won't drink all of it._

Then he was out the door and the next thing they knew, they were arguing over which illegal back road to take to avoid the press.

Seras sighed, shifting in her seat as she thought about the hundreds of cameras they'd need to avoid once they arrived. Ridiculously, the chance of getting seen bothered her more than participating in the random attack of a foreign official.

She wondered idly if she had finally desensitized to the bloody nature of her new life, which only served to be more depressing, because it meant being one step closer to the violent, insane wreck that was her master on most days.

A loud, enclosing siren shattered her thoughts.

Pip squawked in surprise, swerving slightly, "Shit!"

"Turn off your lights, turn off your lights…!" Seras chanted hysterically at him.

"How am I suppose to turn them off right here?!" They were at the curve of a steep cliff, winding down from Hellsing manor and into London. With no barriers but a rusty, mutilated guide-rail and an unpaved trail, Pip was beginning to see why the road had been roped off.

Not that he couldn't maneuver it, since he'd pretty much driven through everything, but he'd _really _like some light to do so.

"Just turn them off," Seras said, head turned nervously toward the pitch darkness of the forest, "They're going to see us."

"They're going to see us if we go hurtling over the side of the cliff!"

Seras's retort was cut off by an ominous metallic click. A second later, the silver sheen of Casull's muzzle glinted in the rearview mirror. Alucard was grinning, upper torso suddenly half-out the back window, and cocked his gun—red eyes glittering eagerly as they gazed into the darkness.

"Master…?" Seras squeaked, blind eyes wide as saucers.

"Never mind," Pip said, laughing shrilly, "I'll turn them off, I'll turn them off…!"

He drove the entire pitch-black curve with his heart blasting through his ribcage, probably deafening the vampires. It would've been embarrassing if Seras hadn't also been crumpling the dashboard in her death grip.

By some miracle, he made it over the narrow bend and Pip was so limp with relief he crashed right through the police barrier leading into the city without caring.

"Captain!" Seras snapped, though with little fire as she finally released the abused dashboard. Alucard looked like he was enjoying the ride.

They sped through the remaining woods and Pip slid neatly onto the first paved street he saw—a harder task than usual considering the amount of congestion on the road. While London was a conglomeration of lights and noise every night, traffic was especially heavy with police and news vans tonight.

"God, is he that big of a deal?" Pip complained, after crawling three centimeters forward in ten minutes.

"Shouldn't you know?" Seras muttered, unimpressed, and Alucard gave him a sardonic look.

"I left when I was sixteen!"

It took a good hour to make it to the Langham, despite it being only a few blocks away. Alucard spent the time making scary faces at neighboring drivers, nearly causing a huge collision, while Pip and Seras tried to become one with the leather backs of their seats.

The number of police and press cars doubled as they got closer, lining the streets with flashing lights. By the time they'd made it to the front of the towering hotel, a thick blockade of messily parked vans were in their way. Mobs of reporters and cameramen could be seen crowding the huge doors, barely being fended off by Scotland Yard.

Pip wound his way carefully through the clutter, needing every inch of skill he possessed to navigate through without scratching the car. The vans were strewn in every direction and Pip's single eye flitted around in vain for a place to park unnoticed.

He was just about to give up and try circling the building when a thin white-gloved hand suddenly pointed toward the left side of the windshield.

Pip turned slightly, "Mr. Alucard?"

The elder vampire smiled and gestured again. Pip followed to where he was pointing and saw a huge garage entrance next to the hotel. A line of news vans that had not made a spot up front were trailing into it.

"Oh." Pip said blankly, wondering how he had missed something so big, "Thanks."

"This is such a bad idea…" Seras mumbled below her breath, and was ignored.

They entered the garage concealed behind a monstrous sized van with satellite dishes nailed to its roof. With most of the vehicles parked in a crowd at the lot's front, it was relatively easy for Pip to find a shadowed corner to slide their car into. A cameraman sprinted by as Alucard literally phased through the car door and didn't spare them a glance.

"A guy who wears jewelry that fucking big shouldn't be so popular," Pip muttered in disgust, shutting his door. Alucard privately agreed, though he was beginning to wonder if Anguis's pin served more purposes than aesthetics. Seras clambered out last, groping her shaky way next to him with the help of the car.

"How are we suppose to do this, Master?" she was still whining, "I can't do anything. I can't even see. I'll…I'll just be a burden…"

Alucard scowled at her. Sometimes, it was like no matter what he did, his fledgling would not grow a spine.

_Stop whining, _he snapped, _Why don't you try adapting for once?_

Seras flinched with slight hurt at his tone, but quickly bristled, "I've only been blind for a day!"

Alucard was indifferent, _Exactly._

And then he was heading impatiently toward the elevator. Seras gaped after him, gaze slightly off so it was directed at a nearby soda machine instead. There was a beat of silence before Pip walked up next to the draculina, touching her hand awkwardly. "Uh, c'mon, mignonette, we should go…"

Seras sighed, shoulders slumping in glum defeat as she let him guide her inside.

The main lobby was flooded with people: frazzled employees, barking policemen and a small crowd of reporters and cameramen who had half spilled through the revolving door, trampling the Egyptian carpets beneath muddy heels. There was much yelling and scrambling about as the cameramen twisted and turned to get better angles, and reporters pelted rapid-fire questions at startled guests.

"Bloody hell," Seras's hands flew to her ears, forlorn mood temporarily dispersed, "It's a zoo in here."

"Guess he is a big deal then," Pip muttered, staring at a small group of DST agents talking with Scotland Yard officers.

Alucard's eyes narrowed in irritation behind his glasses as he watched the chaos. The sheer volume was beginning to give him a headache and he grabbed Seras's hand.

_Go find out where the room is._

Seras's eyes widened, "Wh-What?"

_You heard me. Go._

"B-But what am I suppose to say?"

_How should I know? Think of something._

"Think of—but Master…"

Alucard broke contact to shoot venomous looks at a particularly loud camera crew winding their way over.

"Look at it this way," Pip supplied, having pieced together what they were talking about, "You're blind now."

Seras glared daggers at him. "How bloody observant of you."

"I _mean_ you're at an advantage," Pip said, nodding sagely, "No one's going to offend someone blind. You'll have a much better chance of getting the room number than any of the guys here. And, you know, you're a woman, so you've got that going for you too."

She stared at him. "I didn't think it was possible for you to demean me any further than you already have, Captain, but I've been wrong a lot lately."

"What? I'm just saying that it'll be eas—"

A slightly demonic-looking Alucard cut him off mid-word, shoving pass him to give his fledgling a push toward the front desk.

_The noise is unbearable. Go already. _

Seras sighed, feeling much like she was being dangled off the end of a long fishing pole, "Alright, alright."

* * *

Integra grinded her mutilated cigar into the ashtray for the sixth time, taking sick pleasure in imagining it as Anguis's head.

"No, as I've said repeatedly, Hellsing will not be taking part in any more missions."

"How is this reasonable?" a random council member demanded, "The amount of compensation being considered here should not be left to Sir Hellsing to decide."

Angry voices of assent rose around the room, as fingers were pointed and accusations made.

"Have we not all worked hard in this council?"

"We deserve a word in the negotiations!"

A particularly rancorous member shot her a spiteful look, "She would rather bask in the Queen's favor here in England than risk disgrace and failure in France!"

"That is enough!" Sir Islands roared, before Integra could explode at the man. Pinning the member with a look capable of melting metal, he snapped, "You are _never _to make such baseless accusations against others in my council. Watch your tongue or get out."

The man visibly cowed at Sir Islands' fury and backed down, though others quickly rose to take his place.

Sir Penwood curled into his seat slightly, fidgeting with his gloves, "I don't really see what all the fuss is about…I-I mean, it's not like we _need _money."

Integra's lip curled in disgust at the disgraceful show of greed being displayed around the room. Yet her icy, hateful eyes never broke contact once with the pair settled at the table's opposing end.

Anguis sat with his shoulders back, skeletal fingers clasped loosely in smug recline. His face was smooth of emotion, though his eyes glinted like the edge of a blade. He looked at her like a snake would surrounded by fat, wriggling rats.

"Am I correct in assuming then, mademoiselle," he said, and his voice sliced violently through the noise, "That your duty and sympathy toward victims of the undead are limited by geographical boundaries?"

Several council members quickly moved to reply, but Sir Islands silenced them all with a look.

"You can assume whatever you like, Lord Anguis," Integra said, face like a blank sheet of ice, "But if it satisfies your curiosity, you are quite incorrect. My organization is perfectly willing to travel lands and seas in our fight against the undead."

Anguis's eyebrow twitched slightly, "Oh? So what you are saying is that my country is being specifically excluded then?"

Integra smiled coolly at the man, despite the green-pale and puce colors many of the other council members were turning.

"Of course not, sir, we have every intention of assisting France as long as the operations are carried under our own command."

"You bloody…!" The same ornery member from before exclaimed, about to rise to his feet, before Sir Islands killed his voice with a glare.

"I'm sure Sir Integra has a reasonable explanation for her words," the leader of the council said amiably at a stunned Anguis, though his eyes shot an angry warning at Integra.

"Ce n'est pas grave. We must let the mademoiselle speak her mind," Anguis smiled sharply, recovering within a blink, "Though I do believe considering the amount being discussed that—"

"You seem to be under the misconception that price plays any role in negotiations with me," Integra cut in abruptly, "My first priorities are the safety of my men and the citizens, as I'm sure, are yours as well. Understand, any possible scenarios that could arise would simply be dealt with more effectively under familiar command. Surely, you will not refuse my request out of any _personal offense_."

For the first time since the beginning of this hell, Anguis's features flattened in anger, sending a burst of satisfaction through Integra she could hardly keep off her face.

It wasn't lasting however, as the man's green eyes glittered coldly.

"I'm afraid I cannot accept your proposal, mademoiselle. In ordinary circumstances, I would put the security of my people before my very life. However, as your queen has informed us, the existence of…a special soldier within your organization changes things."

Behind her, Walter, who had been silent as the grave till now, stiffened. A wave of uneasy murmurs rose around the table over the usually taboo subject. Integra's eyes narrowed wordlessly.

"Now I do not claim to be an _expert _such as yourself, but I have taken the liberty of researching the "personal nature" of your agent."

Integra's fists clenched against the table.

"He is under complete control," she replied tightly, "Any transgression is dealt with swift discipline."

"As I'm certain it is," Anguis said suavely, scrutinizing a speck of dust on the rim of his wine glass, "But you see, in my research I've come across a worrisome piece of information. It appears that, pardonnez-moi, vampires possess a deep attraction to objects of particular shine."

A pool of dread began forming in the pit of Integra's stomach as she heard Walter inching closer. They were both all too aware of Alucard's strange obsession and the horrific messes it could make. Not even a hundred years of lashings and torture had beaten it out of him.

"It is instinctual. He can't help that," was her curt reply, "I don't see how it's relevant to the current discussion."

"La Maison de la sorcière, the castle that you sent your vampire to, was a place of great historical and sentimental value to my people. It was also home to a considerable collection of priceless artifacts before it was infested."

There were several gasps and angry mutters around the table, though Sir Islands' face remained perfectly blank. Integra's eyes narrowed further.

"I was never informed of anything being inside."

Anguis's eyebrows raised fractionally, "How odd. I remember personally including it in the report. Well, you will have to forgive me, mademoiselle, the missing artifacts, the utter destruction of one of our most beloved landmarks and the recorded tendencies of your agent simply leads me to believe…"

Integra bit the inside of her cheek hard. The sudden urge to stab her steak knife through Anguis's throat was overwhelming.

"Are you…_daring _to imply my men stole your artifacts?"

"Sir Integra," Sir Islands warned again, but Integra didn't even hear him. Her eyes were drilling holes into Anguis, who raised his hands in mock pacification.

"Dear mademoiselle, let's not be so angry. I would never insinuate your men would do anything of the sort," his voice lowered, nearly to a hiss, "Your _vampire _though is another matter."

He continued before anyone could speak, fingering the edge of his own steak knife.

"They are much like animals, aren't they? Uncontrollable habits, feral appetites, minds honed by instinct. You keep yours on a "leash" of sorts, no? I'm sure no man in Hellsing would dishonor himself so by taking that which does not belong to him. But your pet, it would not be dishonor to him, would it? I think you'll find my reluctance to let an animal wander across my country is—"

"How _dare _you…"

"…Excuse me?"

Integra's nails were nearly embedded into her palm, and she had to pause to rein her temper in enough to remove the quiver from her voice.

"No mention was made anywhere in that report of historical significance being attached to the site or the presence of any "artifacts." You incorrectly labeled the target as a small threat and allowed my agents to go in unprepared, and then failed to pick them up, which was the only task your people had to do. And now, now you're _accusing_…"

"Sir Integra," Sir Islands interrupted calmly, "I think before you let your temper get the better of you, that you examine the facts and history of your creature more carefully."

"I don't need anyone to tell me what to think of him," Integra said coldly, not even sparing the elder man a glance, "He didn't steal anything."

Anguis looked at her dismissively, "Forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

Integra's grip on the steak knife tightened.

* * *

"You know, Captain, if you think about it, you kind of stole this," Seras murmured, twisting the rooster pin between her two fingers.

Pip turned his head to give her a mildly offended look, "Maybe if you want to get technical, but that thing is the only reason we know what happened wasn't some freak accident, so I think you should let it slide already."

Seras shrugged, "I'm just saying." She flipped the pin over in the palm of her hand, outlining the edge of its jewel-encrusted crown with her fingertip, having yet to feel whatever "energy" Alucard had demanded she search for, before flicking the thing at her.

So far, nothing. It had an unusually cool temperature, especially against her undead flesh, but otherwise she didn't know what her master was talking about, which was sadly par for the course by this point.

"It's kind of a strange design," she commented, "Well, I guess it does make sense, since it's the national bird and all…"

"How the hell does everyone know that?" Pip muttered incredulously, scowling at the floor sign as they climbed to another platform, "Merde, it's only the third floor? We've climbed like eighteen flights!"

Seras nodded sympathetically, "It's a big place." After being hastily informed that Anguis had reserved the penthouse for the next week, Alucard had promptly melted into the shadows, leaving Seras and Pip to trudge up a million flights of emergency stairs after him.

"I still can't believe they even told me what floor he's on."

In front of her, Pip snorted at the memory, "_Told_ you? They parted like the Red Sea."

"It does say a bit about the media, I suppose."

"Doesn't it always?" he replied amusedly, before sighing in frustration at the endless spiral of stairs ahead of them and giving her a look, "I still don't get why you won't let me lead you up. It'd be ten times faster than this."

Seras's face colored. "Well, I figured I should start trying to get use to my surroundings like this," she said softly, before her face twisted in annoyance, "I have to 'adapt'you know?"

Her companion made a thoughtful, but not unsympathetic noise. "He seems a bit hard to please, doesn't he?"

She sighed in defeat, "If only you knew. You can go ahead if you want, Captain; it would be faster."

Pip shrugged, "Non, I'll stay. We'll get there eventually," he turned to keep climbing, missing Seras's small smile, "I just hope your master won't get too impatient."

She immediately winced, "Well, if we're lucky, he might've already done whatever he needed to do by the time we show up and we can just leave."

Pip snorted, "And climb back down fifty flights again?"

The draculina giggled, "Yeah."

And then the moment was shattered before it even had a chance to form by a ear-splitting crash somewhere above them. They both flinched, hands automatically flying to cover their heads before they realized the ceiling wasn't going to collapse on them. Then it was just from one heart-stopping scare to the next as they simultaneously processed the only likely being responsible for the sound.

"Master!" Seras yelled up the flights uselessly, not expecting a reply. Their bond, still unexplainably fuzzy and weak, gave her no clues.

"Oh, no," she muttered in horror, and for a moment, Pip just gaped dumbly at the ceiling, before remembering to move.

"Let's go!" he called, grabbing her hand without warning.

Seras suppressed a sigh, trying to keep up so she wasn't being dragged. So much for adapting.


	9. Chapter 9

A/n: Here's chapter nine! I tried to update quickly to make up for the two month delay with the last chapter, so I really hope you guys enjoy!

To answer **Accuracy Rating**, yes, I'm leaning more towards AlucardxIntegra and PipxSeras for this fic. Though I'll take this moment to warn everyone that the romance won't be a huge focal point. It'll still be present and relevant to the plot, since every story needs a bit of romance, but I'm probably going to focus more on the adventure aspect.

If there are any more questions or confusing parts that have been bothering anyone, please feel free to ask! I know this story is a bit overly convoluted, so either PM or review and let me know.

And a final note, I just wanted to thank every reviewer and reader I've had so far. Particularly the ones that have been with this fic since the beginning and reviewed every chapter since! I know Witch House is…kind of out there as far as Hellsing stories go, but your support and encouragement has kept me going regardless, so thank you tons! You guys rock!

Alright, I'll stop rambling now. Again, please enjoy and don't forget to review and let me know what you think!

* * *

**The Witch House (9)**

* * *

They sprinted up the rest of the steps in record time and had to skid behind a wall to avoid the hotel staff that were just rushing in.

There was a trail of white smoke in the hallway, stinking of fried wires and melted glass. It wound its way to a room adjacent to an intersection of halls, where several employees and nosy guests were hurrying over to. A woman's loud enraged screeches could be heard inside. Seras and Pip scuttled to a nearby corner to peek in.

An expensively dressed American woman was shrieking at a worker, as two hysterical teenage girls clung to each other in the background, "I was just watching a movie with my babies when the tv suddenly _exploded_! Do you people have any idea what proper wiring is? And with the prices you charge us! Well, your manager will be having a talk with my husband…!"

"Mon Dieu," Pip muttered, as he caught sight of what remained of the television, which was nothing more now than a pile of shrapnel with jagged pieces of glass sticking out of it. Streaks of soot and ash were splattered across the cream wallpaper and orange sparks were still rising from behind the shattered screen. It looked like a miniature grenade had gone off inside it.

"Must've been a pretty shitty movie," he quipped weakly.

"Oh, God, we need to find him" Seras said, anxiously tugging on Pip's hand. The captain didn't budge though, and closer inspection saw that he was mesmerized by the expansive wine cabinet further inside the room.

"Holy fuck, is that Montrachet?"

"Captain!" she snarled, turning back to smack him, when an icy hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist.

_I keep telling you to quiet down, _a voice rippled through her head, before the familiar shudder of passing through a portal crawled down her spine. Next to her, the captain cursed in surprise.

Seras barely waited for her surroundings to solidify again before flipping out.

"Master, what the heck?! Did you _shoot _their telly?"

Alucard frowned at her, dropping her arm and Pip's braid, which he had used to yank them both through a wall and into an unoccupied suite.

_It was there again. _

_"_What?"

Alucard twitched, _That filth. The one with thirty-minute pauses between lines and the obscure sparkling in the sunlight. It was there again, multiplying, poisoning the world. It deserved death. _

For a moment, Seras just stared, before it suddenly clicked.

Consequently, an overwhelming wave of exasperation crashed into her instead. She sighed, hanging her head, "I never should have showed you that movie."

It would be a complete miracle if they left this place without being seen.

"Looks like the smoke's clearing up," Pip noted obliviously, having wandered over to the door's peephole. A line of disgruntled guests were being herded away by listless employees. "Oh, hey, they're evacuating the floor."

Seras brightened slightly at the news. It was always nice to know something productive came from her master's destructive fit.

Alucard, himself, looked entirely nonchalant.

_Why does that matter? _ He said, heading towards the nearby wall._ It's only two doors down anyway._

Seras nodded, "Yeah, but the halls will be emp—WAIT, WHAT?"

Without thinking, she leapt forward blindly, somehow managing to grab Alucard's wrist and surprise her master enough into pausing.

"You mean the penthouse right?" she said nervously, sightless eyes like two full moons in the darkness, "That's where he is right? We're only going to the penthouse _right_?"

Silence. Alucard cocked a slender eyebrow at the young vampire, while Pip just sent a perfunctorily confused stare at both of them.

_Did you do as I told you, police girl? _ Alucard finally said, frowning down at his fledgling.

Seras's wince was tiny, nearly microscopic, but he saw it anyway. He always did.

Alucard sighed in disgust, unknowingly making Seras's face crumple. He supposed he should have expected it. Even when in close contact with the pin, the energy was remarkably thin—a single ugly thread against the myriad of scents and sounds in the world; not something a half-starved fledgling could detect.

He scowled, considerably miffed; still though, he thought he'd likely find her overwhelming self-rejection less annoying if she surprised him now and again.

_It's two doors down, _he coldly shook off Seras's hand, _Hurry up_.

The girl blinked uselessly. "Huh? W-Wait, master…"

She reached out again, catching nothing but air this time and fell flat on her face from where she tripped over the edge of a rug. Immediately though, she sprung back to her feet.

"Master?!"

"Uh," Pip said, watching the tips of Alucard's coat melt into the wall, "Is he going somewhere?"

"I don't know!" she said frantically, whipping her head back to Pip, "He said two doors down."

Pip's eyebrows rose and he turned back to the door incredulously.

"Two doors down…?" he muttered, but grabbed the knob regardless and pulled it back, "I thought it was the pent—"

The words died as a gun suddenly materialized in his face.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" A voice shouted, nearly indecipherable with its thick French accent.

_This is becoming a little too familiar, _Pip thought, staring down the dark barrel as he obeyed.

His assailant was a dark-haired man dressed in black suit and trousers, with another identically dressed blonde man behind him, also brandishing his gun. DST badges glinted at Pip from the shoulders of their uniforms.

"Walk slowly out of the room," the first man barked at him, "Don't try anything or I will blow your brains out."

Their faces were pinched and suspicious as they glared at him, weapons raised menacingly, though Pip hadn't felt a wisp of fear of the French authorities since he was twelve years old. Nevertheless, he did as he was told. The blonde man snatched him as soon as he was close enough and wrenched his arms behind his back.

"We have two potential suspects cornered on the sixth floor. The affected room is diagonal to our location now. The television was in close range," he said in French into a radio, "First suspect has been apprehended. A male of roughly six feet in height. Does not seem to have any of the suspected explosives or bomb triggers within his possession."

Pip stared blatantly at his arrestor, wondering if his hearing aid had even processed that correctly.

"We're moving for the second suspect now," the blonde man finished, just as his partner began moving forward into the darkened room.

"Come out with your hands up!" he demanded, again in mutilated English.

Nothing but silence greeted him. The dark-haired man dipped his head into the shadows, eyes narrowed into slits, as if he could somehow see more by doing it. His long brows furrowed, in that blend of focus and frustration that was a man straining his ears. Pip nearly laughed—no amount of eye or ear straining would ever find Seras if she didn't want to be found.

But he held his tongue, and his captor moved closer, perhaps sensing the fearlessness in him. "I wouldn't try anything if I were you," he hissed, prodding the gun between Pip's shoulder blades, "My finger could always slip."

_How professional of you, _Pip thought blandly, as the man jabbed him with the gun again. It was hard to feel threatened by a puny Glock 23 when a bazooka had been aimed at his face just yesterday night.

But for the sake of the man's pride and finding an opening, Pip kept still. The blonde man, observing that his captive seemed passive, felt confident enough to fiddle again with his radio.

Simultaneously, the dark-haired man reached for the light switch and the opening was there.

With blinding suddenness, Pip's head flew backwards, ramming the hardest part of his skull into the most vulnerable part of his captor's. The man crumpled to the ground noiselessly.

His partner whirled around in shock, gun trained squarely between Pip's eyes. However, he only had enough time to spit a curse and notice the pity in Pip's smile, before something hard and _freezing _smashed into his back.

With barely a yelp, the man went down, darkness smashing into him as he hit the ground.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Seras asked, shifting her weight off the unconscious man.

"Not a scratch, girlie," Pip replied, though feeling mildly disappointed, "Did you have to take him out that way? What a lucky bastard."

"Don't start. You should be glad I even hit him, I was relying on scent alone," Seras snapped, "What happened anyway?"

"The other guy said they were investigating what made the tv explode. They probably think there are bombers or explosives in the hotel."

For a moment, Seras stood there in stunned silence. Then she sighed deeply and ran her fingers through her hair.

"So much for stealth again," she muttered, sounding incredibly tired, "We should go."

They dragged the two unconscious bodies hastily into the empty suite, bashing in the doorknob for good measure before heading down the hall. When they arrived at the correct room, Seras pressed her ear carefully to the door.

"No sounds of snapped spines or blood-curdling screams," she noted to Pip, who just shrugged in confusion at her.

The first thing that greeted them when the door opened was a pair of boots, propped up on the edge of an intricately carved coffee table.

_You took your time, _Alucard commented, semi-boredly, reclining on a plush leather armchair.

"Master," Seras hissed, staggering her way over to the elder vampire, "We need to get out of here. The captain and I were just attacked by these big french people and now they think we're a load of bombers trying to blow up the hotel!"

Alucard stared at her, looking neither particularly alarmed or concerned.

_And? Has this somehow frightened you?_

Seras's cheeks puffed slightly in frustration, "That's not what I mean! Ohhh, Master, if you just hadn't shot that telly in the first place…!"

Pip winced slightly, feeling a deep pang of sympathy for Seras as she continued "arguing" with her sire, who didn't even seem to be listening. But as they were currently occupied, the Wild Geese captain took the moment to wander a bit away and observe the room they'd broken into.

Despite the shadows from the drawn curtains, a single light from a nearby lamp revealed an excessively expensive-looking suite. It had cream wallpaper and dark oaken furniture, with all the chairs cushioned by soft white velvet. A television screen was stretched across half the western wall, with a neat arrangement of leather couches positioned before it. Bundles of delicate hyacinths and callas graced the top of every surface in crystalline vases.

Pip's nose wrinkled, feeling slightly irritated by the sight. Spending the better part of his life sleeping on moldy mattresses and the occasional rat-infested trench could do that.

"…so let's just go, alright Master? Please? What if they—mmf!"

Immediately, Pip whirled around in surprise, only to see Alucard had slapped a hand over Seras's mouth again. His expression didn't seem impatient or vexed however, and looked more gleeful than anything else.

For an inexplicable, but plenty suicidal reason, Pip began speaking, "Um, Mister Alucard—"

A simple look shut him up swiftly.

However, Alucard did point to a closed door near the couches.

Pip stared for a moment, having not even noticed it was there. "What the…" Quietly, he edged closer to the jamb.

The faint sound of water from a showerhead drifted through the wood.

Pip's first instinct was to reach for his hearing aid, adjusting the knobs to make sure he wasn't imagining it. The sound didn't change and he could've sworn, was now being accompanied by a falsetto rendition of Habanera.

"Holy shit," was all Pip could say, as he turned to the two vampires, "_Holy shit_, is there still someone in here?"

Seras's eyes widened almost comically, though Alucard's knife-like grin answered it all. Releasing his fledgling, he glided over to a long couch, leaning lightly against the back of it so he could directly face the door. The single lamp lighting the room fizzled out with a wave of his ghostly hand, plunging the room into darkness.

Seras and Pip stayed where they were, frozen. The showerhead had shut off and the doorknob was turning.

* * *

"… Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière! L'un parle bien, l'autre se tait…!"

Jean Petit bellowed at the top of his lungs as he turned off the water and wrapped a robe around himself. He stepped out of the shower stall and inhaled deeply, pushing away the general stresses of his current situation from his mind.

The deaths of a few nameless villagers and a couple novice officers should not be troubling his conscience so deeply. Not when he knew it wasn't his fault.

_What chance could you have had? _Anguis had said, _You knew not who she was. What she was. All you knew was that people were dying. And so perhaps, you sent your men to slaughter. But in the end, how could you have known? She is a creature _so beyond _the capabilities of your mind to comprehend, petit commandant. How could a small, weak little man like you have ever done anything?_

He was right of course, as Anguis often was. At first, all he'd wanted was to save that village. It was a rickety, humble little place, lacking the pomp and luxury of the cities, but the men laughed at his jokes and the women baked him pies and the children always smiled at him as if he were a hero.

He hadn't saved anyone; every person the creature took died, but they never stopped being grateful. And a part of him (the one his father's old drunken fist never reached) wanted desperately to show them results.

Even after…he was told…_shown _the truth.

Petit shuddered violently, and wrapped his robe more tightly around him as he finished tying the sash. He'd sent squads in with the best equipment the department could afford; young, blue-eyed officers, more boys than men, thinking it'd be enough.

And when they were dragged from the forests a day later, skin turned inside out and eyes plucked, Anguis had patted his shoulder and said _No, it hadn't been enough. But it's not your fault, because you are no match._

He had trouble initially attributing all the deaths on his hands to such a bleak reason, but the more Petit thought about it, the more it made sense and the more it resembled, not an excuse, but something akin to release.

"Et c'est l'autre que je préfère! Il n'a rien dit mais il me plait…!"

His singing grew stronger as he slipped into his bath slippers and headed for the door. What did it matter if the monster was still alive? He had handed all control of the case and his men over to Anguis already, and what the man did with England was hardly his concern.

He was nothing now—a mere secretary—and despite Anguis's anger and disturbing cruelty, he had never felt so free.

"L'amour! L'amour!" Petit bellowed, swinging the door open, "L'amour est enfant de Bohême!"

There was exactly three seconds to register the sudden darkness of the room, save for the pale moonlight, before he was slammed into the couch.

Petit's squinty eyes bulged open as the wind was knocked clean out of him. He opened his mouth to wheeze and made a choked off noise instead. A white, skeletal hand gripped his neck in a cold vice.

For a moment, he gasped and wriggled like a fish on land as the splotches of color across his vision faded.

It was white shadowy light that first came into focus, outlining the long dark shape over him—something slender, though the hand around his throat was like iron, no matter how he scratched at it. And _cold_. Like a corpse's.

Eyes like two bloodied worlds stared into his, reptilian slits for pupils, and he knew. He _knew _in that moment that they were not human. He had seen _her _far too many times to not recognize a monster's eyes.

A growl rippled through the shadow—part animal, part something else, and Petit knew, before he could understand anything else, that he was going to die.

It didn't stop him from trying to scream, as panic bubbled to the surface and torched his coherency. He thrashed like a maniac, gurgling out pleas and prayers in turn, all in vain, as the icy fingers around him never loosened and those red eyes never blinked. He was to die. The Devil had come to judge him. _OhGodOhGodShitFuck…!_

"M-Master, Master, please wait. Who is this?" A voice floated in from the darkness, light and ethereal—a woman's voice.

She appeared from the shadows like a ghost—pale white, save for the gold of her hair_. _

"Hey, I recognize this guy," another voice suddenly said, "He was on the news earlier with Anguis. His secretary, I think." In the next second, another face sprang up only a scant meter to his right. It was a young man this time, with long auburn hair and a black patch over one eye, the other bright and horribly green. But human.

Petit didn't take the time to be confused or even think. He turned his eyes as much as he could toward the man.

"P-Please_,_ h-help me, I don't want to die…don't want to d-die…please, _please_."

The words were a garbled, stuttering mess and partly in French, but he seem to have been understood, because the man gave him a slightly pitying look.

"He looks like he'd talk either way," he said finally, standing back next to the woman, who was wringing her hands.

The creature gripping him said nothing, only bent his neck back further with a press of its icy thumb. Petit squealed and flailed, sending desperate pleading looks at the two in the background.

It was by sheer coincidence that the yellow glint caught his eye. It was in between the woman's fingers, a golden glow smattered by the red lights of the rooster's gem-lined crown.

Petit froze mid-scream, so suddenly and completely it was as if time itself had stopped.

For a moment, he forgot the monster baring down at him, forgot his crushed throat and pounding heart.

For a moment, there was just the woman. Despite her nervous expression, her eyes were entirely vacant and, he noticed for the first time, milk-white and sightless.

_Mon Dieu…_

The man blinked at him in confusion, following his gaze to the woman. A mechanized hook was attached to his ear, previously hidden by his hair. Deaf. He was deaf.

…_the spell's been split…_

It began clicking together so rapidly that his brain was nearly rattling.

"Hellsing," he croaked, staring at the cold red eyes above him with a vague sort of horror, "You're Hellsing's monster."

The two in the back stiffened visibly and the mass of black shadows growled again. The grip on his throat tightened a fraction.

Petit's mind scattered like leaves.

"Nono, I'm sorry, I'm sorrypleasedon'tMonDieupleaseI'lltellyouI'lltellyo uanythingyouwant…!"

But he was simply wrenched upwards, chin pulled back to expose his thick neck. This time, the woman and man were silent.

"Please, please," Petit begged, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, "Please have mercy…"

He got no reply, not a sound, but the icy feel of its breath across his throat. And as it drew closer, he saw the darkness melting away from its face.

It had skin whiter than any snow he'd ever seen and dark wild hair falling in inky wisps across its forehead and cheekbones. Its features were sharp, but without a flaw, as if every contour of its face had been sculpted by a master's hands.

Petit stared, salty tear trails slithering down his temple.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, as if in shock, and not because he felt it needed to be said, but because the words flew out of him of their own accord.

The creature paused. It lifted its head, tilting it at him, eyes almost childishly wide. For a moment, it seemed that he had taken it by surprise and Petit felt a weak glimmer of hope spark inside him.

It was smothered not a second later. The creature smiled, and that too would've been beautiful, if its eyes had not glittered in that way, with no mercy or feeling, nothing but inhuman glee. If its colorless lips had not parted to reveal a great fanged maw.

It dived at him, having never uttered a word.

Petit's shriveled throat struggled to even scream. The last sight he saw, before the most horrific pain that'd ever existed shredded through his mind, was a rooster upon the base of a white, white neck.

* * *

_Jean Petit, as Alucard learned his name, had incredibly bland blood, bordering on rancid—a taste akin to a corrupted heart. It was horrible, almost worse than the vein-less bags he was forced to digest every day, but Alucard forced himself to ignore it._

_It was the memories he was after anyway and they came in a river, like the blood flowing down his throat. They trickled down his thoughts quietly, and not knowing what he was looking for, he let them come one at a time._

_One had a small boy, freckled and overweight, being kicked around by a man with an empty bottle in hand. Another had the same child sitting alone in a sandbox, shoveling with a cracked blue bucket. Another one still, he was sitting beneath a tree, the broken body of a bird cradled in his palms. He cried in this one._

_But Alucard shifted them all aside impatiently, letting them sink into the roiling darkness to join the rest of his souls._

_Eventually he saw Petit in the forest, patting the shoulders of young uniformed men, before they disappeared into the swamp. The next one had Petit at the morgue, staring at a mutilated corpse, its flesh ripped wide open, all its organs black and half-consumed. Another body was next to it, its youthful blonde curls framing two empty eye sockets._

_What chance could you have had? A voice hissed, rippling through the surface of the memory, but Alucard couldn't make out the owner before the scene vanished._

_The next few images were disjointed and short. A dark room. An aluminum table. Scalpels and hatchets and cobwebs in the corners. A half-charred flag of France hung like a rag off the rim of a dirty sink._

_Then the House rose up through the river of memories—vine-ridden and silent as they had seen it, if not for a splatter of blood across the rotting porch. The golden pin of a rooster lay in the middle as if having bled out._

_You truly don't know what this is, do you? The voice said again, and a dark figure formed. His face was shadowed, but his long hands tapped at a pin fixed neatly to his lapel. It was a rooster, identical to the one at the House. _

…_she shall exist as long as it does…tu me comprends…that little pin…it doesn't matter what happens…as long as she dies…it doesn't matter…_

_Tell me, petit commandant. A man stood behind a large oaken desk. He was thin and tall like a skeleton. His eyes were a piercing, eerily familiar green._

_Tell me, petit commandant. What do you know of Japan…?_

* * *

Alucard's eyes were wide and faintly stunned when he pulled away. Long strands of blood dripped from the corners of his lips, trickling down his chin and onto the expensive leather.

Petit's neck and bathrobe were also saturated red as he laid like a stringless puppet beneath him. He was ghost pale, nearly blue and would've looked dead if Alucard hadn't heard the sluggish beat of his heart.

With a quick whip of his tongue, he sealed the punctured wounds over the jugular, but didn't rise. Instead, he leaned back on his heels, trying to sort the information he'd just absorbed into a sensible order.

Simultaneously, Seras gathered up her courage and crept forward.

"M-Master?" she whispered, head and shoulders shrunken inward as if trying to disappear into her jacket. Alucard glanced at her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated and took a step forward instead. Inadvertently, she stepped in a small puddle of blood that had gathered on the floor and screamed, flailing backwards.

When she found cleaner footing, she hugged herself as if cold, even though her pupils shrunk with hunger. Alucard stared. So meek and frightened by her own nature, he didn't think he'd ever understand.

"Did…did you find out what happened to us?" Seras eventually struggled out.

On his other side, he saw Pip move forward slightly from the corner of his eye. Though the captain looked mildly nauseous, he seemed more interested than anything else. It was a sad day when a human could stomach a scene better than a vampire could.

_Give me the pin, _he snapped at Seras, without answering her, feeling all of a sudden annoyed. His childe jumped slightly, startled, but hurried to obey.

Alucard held the crown and feet of the rooster between two fingers. His crimson eyes flashed as he concentrated on the strand of black energy extending out from it, trying to pinpoint where it ended. In any case, it was better to find the other pin first.

The energy looped across the suite, going through walls and floors, and Alucard's eyes narrowed.

_It's not here._

Seras's eyes were owlish in their confusion. "What's not here?"

Pip's head whipped suddenly toward the door. "Hey," he whispered, "Did anyone hear that?" He was ignored.

_There's another one._

"You mean the pin? Well, it's a government-issued thing isn't it? Probably loads of them out there."

Alucard looked at her. _No. There are only two. One for her and the other for her children._

Seras's eyebrows rose as Pip turned toward the door, reaching silently for the gun in his jacket.

"What?"

A thin grin split Alucard's face, displaying sharp blood-stained teeth. _She's still alive, police girl. She's not a—_

The door smashed open, pouring in light from the hallway.

"FREEZE!"


End file.
